Running in the Moonlight
by Asrailefay
Summary: Sookie finds herself running for her life alongside a handsome stranger; he's not exactly what he seems – and neither is she. Worlds collide, and change unexpectedly. Pre-Great Revelation to start/AU OOCish. Lots of twists, a rollercoaster fic for sure.
1. Run for your life

**Disclaimer: I have no rights to the Sookie Stackhouse books by Charlaine Harris, the TV show True Blood by Alan Ball, or to any of the characters contained within (except any OCs). I am simply playing with them in my sandbox and no copyright/trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.**

* * *

"You've got to run faster!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!" She screamed frustrated, with barely enough oxygen in her lungs to release the words from her throat. Her shouts came out in rasps. Tears streamed down her face from the pain of being cut by the underbrush and trees in their path.

His legs were much longer than hers; the wide berth between them growing with each of his strides. Every so often he looked back and slowed his pace, tugging at her arm once she was within reach. His irritation grew with each step, as if she had chosen to be slower than him. Each felt like they had been running for hours. She was so grateful she had been an athlete in high school, if not she would have been a goner a long time ago.

Reaching an open field, he motioned his arm out to indicate she should slow. He began to stalk the tree line, staying close to the ground – almost belly-crawling. He glanced backwards to see she was hunched over with her hands on her knees, head down and catching her breath.

He let loose a growl from his chest. He couldn't help but think that if this was her survival instinct that she stood no chance of making it out of this alive. He huffed back over to her and gripped her wrist to pull her along, encourage a faster pace. She tried to hide the pain it caused; she knew he was trying to save her life, and also his, even though she had no idea why.

She didn't even know his name.

They made it past the clearing without incident. He threw his back against a tree and drew his finger to his lips to ask for her silence. Her chest heaved with short breaths as she tried to catch it. He could not help but notice the curve of her breasts peeking through her sheer blouse. He shook loose from his distraction quickly, resuming his canvas of the area. He could hear the rustling and crunching of dry leaves off in the distance, and wolves howling deeply at the moon, whose light peppered through the tree line, barely illuminating the landscape surrounding them.

She heard the wolves, but not much else in the distance; her own heartbeat was pounding loudly in her ears. It was erratic and unyielding. She wasn't sure how much further pure adrenaline could take her, but she was going to do her best to push pass "the wall." She'd never hit it before; the metaphorical wall runners said they hit at some point, where they were sure if they took another step that their body would break into pieces. Every muscle inside her was burning. She looked over at her running partner; he hadn't even broken a sweat. His shirt clung to his chest, wet from the last remnants of the day's rain, and she could see how toned he was – he obviously worked out. He grabbed her wrist again, to pull her out of her trance, sprinting back into the woods.

She chastised herself for losing focus. He had been pulling her along, trying to save her, but she was certain he would leave her if the option became her life or his. She had to keep that from being a choice he would have to make.

"We can't keep losing speed," He hissed at her, trying to keep his voice low.

This caused her terror to compound ten-fold – why would he be so quiet when he had been outright yelling at her for the past hour, unless the people tracking them were close? She nodded violently to be sure he saw that she understood. She continued to try to push herself harder as she ran and jumped, trying to avoid fallen tree limbs and other foliage scattering their unbeaten path. He traversed the trail so easily, while she struggled. She didn't understand how he could see so well where they were going, but she was grateful for it, no matter what the reason. She couldn't see the path, but she could see his pale smooth skin moving agilely by the bit of moonlight. He was like her flashlight right now.

But then the worst thing that could happen, happened.

She tripped on a rotting branch, twisting her ankle on the way down. She yelped loudly in pain. She knew in an instant that it was broken. That she was going to die out there. Alone, and for reasons she still did not wholly understand. He was almost a hundred yards ahead and had not broken his pace when she fell. She watched him continue to move away, until he was out of sight. She sank fully to the ground and curled into the fetal position, not bothering to scan her surroundings. She was not a quitter, but she was not going to call for him, risk the both of their lives. If anything she was accepting that she was the weaker of the two, allowing her capture to ensure his escape.

She cried softly, wrapping her arms around her knees, drawing them into her chest. She wanted to be small; she wasn't going to make this any easier for the people in pursuit of them.

Suddenly her running mate was beside her; she had not heard his approach. She realized she may have been crying more loudly than she had thought. "Get. Up." He snarled at her through gritted teeth.

She let out a large sigh and rolled onto her butt, using the last bit of strength in her arms to find some sort of seating position. "It's broken." She said motioning towards her ankle, noticing for the first time that the bone was protruding through the skin. She flinched at the sight of it.

"Go. Save yourself. Don't let me slow you down anymore."

He looked from her eyes to her ankle as she continued, "No reason for us both to die today," She said with a half-smile, trying to make light of their situation a bit. But saying it out loud forced her to acknowledge her despair. Because she was going to die today. His eyes continued to snap from her ankle to her face, his lips pursed tightly.

"Go," she implored in a soft voice.

He regarded her face with an expression she could not place. This was the longest they had looked at each other since their escape had begun. Then his head moved, at an almost inhuman speed, in the direction of crunches that sounded much too close for comfort.

"Go," She cried through silent sobs.

"I don't like having feelings," He muttered so quietly to himself that she wasn't quite sure she had heard him right.

Before she could ask him, once more, to go, to save his own life, to understand that she was resigned to her fate, he snatched her up into his arms bridal style and shot both of them upwards and into the sky. She didn't even have the strength to scream, so instead she passed out wondering at what point she had slipped from reality into a dream.


	2. Walking home

He glanced down at the stilled form wrapped in his arms. The sweet smell of her blood pervaded his senses, even as the air whipped past them on their flight. But it wasn't nearly as distracting to him as the sensation of her warm cheek nuzzled against his cool chest. He could not remember the last time he had held anyone the way he held her, like she was precious to him.

Because she was. Even if he could not understand why.

He landed with such force that the ground shook a bit, giving way beneath his feet. She stirred in his arms, rubbing at her eyes with her fisted hands, but did not wake from her deep slumber. He was thankful he had not roused her. For the first time ever, he had no plan – he had been running on pure instinct. He had been all sorts of distracted since he spoke to this woman in his arms; she would be the death of him, he was sure of it.

As he allowed his eyes to travel across her form, he discovered he had been too rough with her, evidenced by the deep purple bruises she wore where he had grabbed her wrists. He had little experience handling humans – he had only ever used them for feeding and fucking. He had not realized his grip had done that kind of damage; she hadn't cried out or fought him – she had let it happen, let him set the pace and lead the way. He found he was impressed at her trust in him and her strength – and a little ashamed he had marred her sun-bronzed skin. It made him sick with himself.

He hissed at the sleeping woman – it irritated him how she stirred these kinds of feelings in him – made him want to protect and cherish her. Her kind was supposed to be consumable, for sustenance and pleasure; his was the superior race. He should not have cared at all that he had bruised her – her little aches should be insignificant. And yet, for reasons he could not rationalize, the marks on her skin bothered him, greatly. He hated that he had done it and he hated that he cared.

He gently laid her down onto the wet grass as he contemplated what to do next. Someone was after her, and, by proxy, him. And, of course, there was still the matter of her mangled ankle. He could see that the blood had slowed, clotting, but she would be unable to walk for quite some time. Her chances of surviving alone were slim, no matter the distance he placed between her and her captors.

All thoughts went to killing her, ending her short life – being rid of her and her strange hold on him. He could not risk his existence, and he had exposed his secret the moment he picked her up, flying her away from impending danger. It would be so easy to snap her delicate neck, to tear a hole in her with his fangs and drain her dry, to shuffle off her mortal coil. He contacted his child, whose response had mirrored the same sentiments. He could make it painless; she could slip into death like one drifts into sleep. But he had a sneaking suspicion it would not be quite so painless for him. He thought about how he should have murdered her when he first met her, before his obsession ever got this far.

When he met her, he was hungry and horny, in need of blood and sex. She wasn't special – at the time – just alone, an easy target. Walking in the dark, by herself, he noticed that she didn't seem to have a care in the world. He had spent his life feeding from pretty women who were so unassuming, worrying nothing about potential monsters hiding in the shadows. He knew he had found his meal. His approach wasn't particularly stealthy – he was pretending to be like her, of course – but she was no more wary of a stranger happening upon her than she had been of walking alone.

In fact, she was cordial, friendly to him.

He remembered he had counted her as a fool, and expected that he would benefit from her naiveté. Her name was Susannah "Sookie" Stackhouse; he had never heard the name "Sookie" before – it sounded very… _country_ to him. He thought that would've meant she was a simpleton, highly susceptible to influence. He sniffed at her during their exchange and was astonished to find that she was untouched, that she had never laid with a man. It excited him – her virginal blood was quite the boon. The blood of virgins was always somehow sweeter – and it was much more difficult to sample with each passing year. It was a delicacy, and one he had to forgo in the past years since he was unwilling to drink from anyone not of age – he had too much honor for that.

Once he discovered her virtue was intact, he wasn't in the mood to fuck anymore – she was unlikely to be a willing lover and he was not a rogue. He decided he would glamour her, drink quickly from her, and be on his way. Something he had done tens of thousands of times, something that had always gone off without a hitch – until that night. He had recalled the events of that night with perfect clarity. He had obsessed about that night every night since.

* * *

"You shouldn't be out here all alone, in the dark like this."

He stood within feet of her – most humans would be uncomfortable having a stranger so close. He did not care; she would be in his thrall soon enough. But she, interestingly enough, seemed nonplussed by his proximity. Instead of increasing the distance between them, she closed it – the moonlight kissing her features in all the right ways.

"Oh, I'm alright. Thank you for your concern. I'm just heading home."

"Perhaps you should come with me instead."

His glamour – his influence – was unparalleled given his age. He meant to take her a bit of ways off the road so he could eat in private. She would not remember one second of their time together. He would satiate himself and then release her back to her journey home.

"Oh, I'll be okay. Again, thank you. I hope you have a good night."

With that, she had turned away from him, resuming her walk home. He found his feet taking him in her direction; he could not help but follow her. He had never met a human who was immune to his glamour. He felt a little pang of regret that tonight would be her last night alive – her ongoing existence could serve as a threat to his kind – he would have to bring a swift ending to her short life.

"If you want to walk with me, you only have to ask. My Gran always said there was strength in numbers," she chuckled, a magical sound he wished he could hear again.

"I'm Susannah Stackhouse," she stopped, extending a hand out to him, "But most people call me Sookie."

He didn't reach for her hand or even respond.

* * *

He hadn't killed her then. He had simply walked away. He was transfixed by her. She had intrigued him; she was the most interesting human he had ever met. And she still was. But now she was something else too – trouble. And he wasn't sure that he was ready to tolerate the introduction of trouble into his life. He didn't even know who or what he was saving her from, what fresh hell he had helped her to escape from. To make matters worse, she couldn't be glamoured to forget how he had saved her. No matter how he looked at it, she was certain to be his harbinger of death, a surefire threat to his existence.

He looked down at the beautiful woman sleeping soundly on the hard, wet ground – Sookie. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath. Her face held a peaceful expression, belying none of the stress of the night or the pain of her disfigured ankle. Before he broke character, she had told him to go, to save himself. He knew in that moment that she had accepted her death. He thought, perhaps, with all of the unknowns and uncertainties, it would be best if he gave it to her.


	3. FLASHBACK, Stretch Before Running

**A/N: Flashbacks like this one will be announced in the chapter titles.**

 ****Prior to the events in Chapter 1****

* * *

"You followed her again."

Sitting behind an ornately-carved mahogany desk, the blonde vampire narrowed her gaze at her maker as he sauntered into the office of their shared house. Her tone rang with irritation. It was not a question – it was obvious to her that he had been doing that very thing. He was on edge, pacing nervously, refusing to settle, and wringing his hands – acting very _human._ She was glad he took great pains to hide mannerisms like this from his peers, but unnerved that he was displaying them at all. And if history was any indication she knew that he was likely to be in this state until the sun took them both. She was a little jealous; she had never seen him so affected by a girl, by anyone in fact – including herself.

She had taken to vampiric life with ease, having been a bit bloodthirsty, untrusting, and detached in her human life. Her maker had released her from his side after her first hundred years among the undead. During her time on her own, she had fed and fucked her way through half the world. Once he took refuge in Louisiana, he had called her back to him, and as his child she was happy to be in his presence once again. She had relished their shared life – until his not-so-little obsession with _that_ girl began. At 800 years his junior, she had never even considered making a mistake of the same magnitude that he was making now. She could not why he would take such a risk.

"Pamela…"

There was a warning in his voice that she should have heeded, but Pam believed this girl had infected her maker with _feelings_. He had stalked that girl night after night for the last two years, keeping to the shadows, never approaching her, but always watching. He was captivated by her inability to be glamoured. He had denied it to Pam, but she knew it drew him to the girl, compelled him to protect her. That girl had been consuming him, turning him into a shell of a vampire. He should've have killed her the night they crossed paths. He was no longer the master, the vampire that Pam had loved. If he was ever going return to his former glory as the ruthless, bloodthirsty Viking Sheriff of Area Five, he was going to have to expunge the sickness that was _Sookie Stackhouse_ from this earth _._

"Eric…" She taunted back.

"You are not to concern yourself with my comings and goings."

"They _concern_ me," She sniped at him, hoping he would understand she meant the word in both senses – that his actions simultaneously involved her and worried her.

"You would be smart to keep your thoughts to yourself on such matters. I did not reach one thousand years of age by acting foolishly. Do not question me. My _hobby_ carries no risk."

She jumped up from her chair, "Hobby?! You call stalking that creature a hobby?! You are risking our exposure!"

"I do no such thing, Pamela. Watch your tone! I simply…keep track of her."

"Keep track of her!? That's a joke, Eric. You follow her like a lovesick puppy. What will you do if she discovers you, finds out that you are a vampire?"

"DO NOT EVER REFER TO ME IN SUCH A WAY!" His voice booming before he continued at a more reasonable volume, "Know your place, Pamela. She is not like others. She is special…to me." His last words escaped his lips in barely a whisper, but she had still heard them.

"You're choosing a human over me, over yourself? You're going to let that unglamourable little virgin," She spat out the word with disgust, "be the catalyst to your demise?"

A bloody tear slipped down her alabaster cheek, "She will be the final death of you," she said sadly before slumping back into the chair dejectedly.

He shook with laughter – he had no intentions of telling his progeny that he feared the exact same thing. That he knew his obsession had grown to epic proportions and was out of control. That he had no idea why the human affected him so. That he hated she made him feel warm and tingly inside, that she made him feel at all.

"You think a feeble human girl poses a threat to us, Pam? Is it really so easy to scare you? Are you quaking with fear in your Louboutins? Shall I save you from the _itty-bitty, teeny-weeny_ bloodbag?" He was pushing at all her buttons, trying to get under her skin, but he found regret once he realized her tears had not stopped falling. That she was, in fact, scared.

"Calm down, my child. You know I like you better when you're cold and heartless."

He leaned towards her, reached his hand out, and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, comforted by the physical contact. He brushed a bloody tear away with his other hand and brought it to his mouth, savoring her taste against his tongue. They had not shared such an intimate moment in over one hundred years. She looked up at him seeking permission to crash her lips against his, end the sexual drought that had existed between them. Observing the hint of hunger in her eyes, Eric dropped his hand, stepped back, and turned away – effectively rebuffing her advances by giving her his cold shoulder. She prickled at his actions. If not for his infatuations, her maker would have never hesitated to offer her a night of unending pleasure. That girl was to blame. He needed to get her out of his system.

"Fuck her or kill her, but be done with her, Eric," she said flippantly while tapping her long red nails on the wooden structure before her, spinning the chair to also turn her back to him.

"You are intolerable and insolent! Leave. It. Alone. Pam!"

Eric's mood had shifted wildly. His words were punctuated with anger as he roared at her with an irrational fury. She was shocked. This was not their first fight over the girl or the first time Pam had campaigned for her death, but he had not once responded this violently. Admittedly, her ribbing had become less playful over the last couple of months, less like a poking and more like a jabbing, but he needed a wake-up call, to snap out of this. His continued existence necessitated that he be less emotional and more controlled, like he used to be.

In an instant, he pulled the chair out from under her, hurling it against the wall opposite from where they stood, leaving a deep crack that trailed upwards to the ceiling. It had shattered into hundreds of pieces, several of them shooting back across the room to rest at her feet. She had not fallen, quickly vamping out of the chair's trajectory once she saw he made a move to grab it. He hissed at her, baring his fangs, and huffed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She heard the front door shake after an unquestionably loud bang not minutes later and she silently hoped he was off to glut himself on blood. He always seemed more like her Eric once he got a little rosy flush back in his skin.

Pam kicked at the remnants of the chair with her pink heels as she leaned against the desk. It was impossible to deny; the little human was driving him crazy. Her Eric was hovering over the precipice of insanity. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to take matters into her own hands.


	4. Running a Little Too Hot

Sookie woke with a jolt, sitting straight up; she had slept like the dead despite the terrors of the night. Her vision was blurry, but without looking she knew the place was unfamiliar. She was not home. The room smelled strongly of bleach and disinfectant. She was laying on a bed under patterned sheets that appeared to have aged at least 20 years – it took little time to ascertain that she was in a no-tell hotel. She wondered how she had evaded death, how she had come to be where she was.

The last she remembered she had been in the woods, curling into a ball on the ground after breaking her ankle. She watched her fellow runner disappear from her sight; he hadn't turned back. Their enemies were closing in. But obviously she hadn't woken up dead, and she definitely was out of the woods, so to speak. She was having difficulty reconciling her current situation with her memories of the last night. It seemed impossible to believe he had come back – chosen to risk his life for her.

She wasn't sure what had happened, but she knew he had to be involved.

Her body was aching, but not in the way she expected. She looked over her wrists – no bruises. Caressed her cheek that had been bloodied from whisking past sharp branches – no lacerations. Threw the covers back and examined her ankle – no bone piercing through the skin, no wound, no scar; in fact, it was set to rights like she had never fallen at all. And to make matters more confusing, she was horny as hell. Her libido was off the charts; she was in such wanton need she was surprised she hadn't woken up with her own hand down her pants.

Except, as it turned out, she wasn't wearing any pants. She was in a foreign bed sporting only a thong and a black tank top that she discovered, when she gave it a glance, was not hers. It was slightly perturbing. And, if she was being honest, maybe a little exciting. Because it looked like the shirt _he_ had been wearing the night before. She growled audibly in frustration; she was hot and bothered, alone, and desperate for release. She blushed as her thoughts swirled with fantasies of the man who had saved her life and, most likely, seen her naked – but it bothered her that she didn't even know his name.

"What the hell is wrong with me? I've never…I don't even know who he is."

She said out loud – talking to herself, as she was sometimes prone to do – before letting her head hang down to feel a bit of shame. At twenty-two years old, she had decided some time ago that her first time was going to be special and with someone she loved – not thrown away on a complete stranger. And yet, in this moment, her head was filled with images of tearing _his_ clothes off and mounting him under the pale moonlight, riding him until she was overtaken by an earth-shattering orgasm, his following shortly after. She was almost regretting that she had not done just that. Her shame disappeared entirely as her lusty thoughts took over. She was on fire just thinking about how his wet shirt – the shirt that she was wearing – had stuck to him, revealing the contours of his ab muscles, giving a sneak peek of what was sure to be a delicious body underneath. She lifted the cottonish material to her nose to breathe in his musk; he smelled of the ocean. She knew that smell would forever remind her of him. She closed her eyes and imagined he was next to her, touching her, brushing his lips across her décolletage, grinding his hardness slowly against her hip. She could not remember the last time, if ever, that she had been this turned on, felt this bold.

She shuddered, reaching down into her underwear to try to bring herself some sort of relief, release.

It took only a few minutes to climax, and she found she was already greedy for more. She had never been so out of control or confused. She wondered what was happening to her. Now was not the time to sit around playing with herself – she had almost been killed the night before; there were much more important things to be thinking about other than sex. And yet, she couldn't get it off her mind. This was something new for her; her virginal mind had never been clouded by her own carnal urges. 'Maybe I've lost it' she thought; a familiar but disconcerting postulation for her. She'd always felt a little unhinged, and her nickname around town – "Crazy Sookie" – didn't help. She considered the possibility that her ability to hear other peoples' thoughts had finally pushed her over the edge, turned her fragile mind to mush.

She shook her head; no, being crazy would be too simple, too easy – her life had never been either of those things. Something weird was going on, something she had no explanation for. Her thoughts drifted back to the previous days. Who had taken her? Why? Was she going to have to be on the run forever? Her musings were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door that caused the wall to quake along with it.

"Check-out's in 17 minutes. We don't stand for squatters here and your guy only paid for the night. Get your ass in gear or fork over another sixty-five smackeroos."

She felt a little giddy to hear someone call _him_ "her guy." But, of course, he was not her guy; he wasn't here, and she had no way of finding him. She was glad to hear he was alive, and grateful he got her the room – her purse had been lost during her abduction.

"Money," she smacked her leg at her revelation; she needed moolah. Her sex-addled mind hadn't been thinking clearly at all. How far could she really go with zero funds? "Not far enough," she answered to herself.

She knew she'd have to sneak into her old farmhouse house to grab some of the much-needed cash squirreled away under her mattress. While she was there, she may as well also pack a couple choice items. She was going to be a woman on the run now. Leaving Bon Temps behind to protect her sweet Gran, her no-good brother – Jason – from whoever was after her. It pained her to think that she might never get to see them again; they were the only family she had left.

She dressed in her dirty clothes she found scattered on the floor, but opted to wear his shirt instead of her blouse. Hers was mostly ripped to shreds. She tossed the blouse towards the dresser; perhaps the maid could use it as a rag. That nagging feeling began to creep into her mind, once again; she was missing something. She sighed, reminding herself that she could use all the time in the world to worry later, but for now, she had to get out of here. She glanced quickly about the room, spying nothing of note to tow along with her on her quick detour home.

Stepping outside, she hissed at how bright the sun was; squinting, her eyes fought to adjust. A couple of days in the dark had really affected her. She checked – the cars in the small lot all had Louisiana plates, so she hadn't been taken out of the state. That in itself was a small mercy. It would've sucked to walk farther than 10 or 20 miles home. She was not going to hitchhike; she'd heard her fair share of horror stories about what the drivers expected (and took) from young women in return. She was prepared to hoof it, even if it took all day.

In her haste to leave, she had overlooked an envelope full of cash, now hidden under her discarded blouse. It had been left on the dresser by the TV with a note that said "Whatever you do, don't go home", signed simply "E".


	5. Walking Through Shadow Valley

**A/N: I should warn you that this is an incredibly intense chapter. _Very_ emotional.**

* * *

The sun was cresting the horizon by the time Sookie finally finished the long trek home. The soles of her shoes were worn through; she would have to trade them out before she left. She climbed up the latticework on the side of the house so she could slip in and out without alerting her Gran. She'd leave her a goodbye letter – with half of her money and a warning not to look for her. She tread lightly on the shingled roof, heading towards her bedroom window. The pane lifted with a few small creaks and groans, but she was able to slip inside.

Sookie's olfactory senses were hit with by an acrid smell in the air she couldn't place or ignore.

Her eyes widened as she scanned what used to be her personal, private space. Clothes were strewn about the carpeted room, pulled from her closet and dresser drawers. Her baubles and tchotchkes were missing from the lace doily adorning her dresser – in ruins on the floor. The whole mattress was off-kilter, out of the bed frame – her money was gone. She espied long gashes cut into her lavender fitted sheets, exposing the underlying foam and springs, as if someone gutted her bed with a hunting knife. Her precious handmade quilt – a family heirloom – lay in scraps, ripped to shreds like it had been clawed at by a wild animal. Her heart hitched in her throat and silent tears burst forth. It didn't escape her notice that this chaos was a physical manifestation of the shit storm her life had become. She stepped back towards the window and heard a crunch beneath her foot. Chunks of glass were scattered everywhere; one of them had pierced through her shoe. Blood saturated her sock, seeping out the bottom of her flimsy footwear. She caught the scent and it was mildly reminiscent of the foul odor pervading the space. In a frenzied move, she tore the curtains down and threw them over the shards to swiftly dash to her bedroom door, pausing for only half of a second to pocket an item from behind her dresser. She flung the door open roughly, no longer giving one shit about being stealthy.

Gran. It was imperative that she find Gran.

She trailed bloody heel prints across the wood floor as she hobbled down the hall towards Gran's room. Throwing open the door, she was relieved to see everything appeared to be tidied and in order. The linens hugged the bed with crisp corners; not one dust bunny graced the floor or any other surface for that matter. The room was pristine, spotless. Too clean, in fact. Once Sookie was tall enough to handle a vacuum, she had shouldered the brunt of the housework. Gran was a strong woman, but her body had continued to rally against her as the years went on. She would have never been able to perform this kind of upkeep in Sookie's absence, nor could she afford to pay someone else to. And Sookie had been gone, which meant no one had been in this room for days.

Sookie's breath was suddenly shallow and erratic. Her pulse was threatening to burst through her veins; her mind was swimming in a cocktail of sadness, fear, and adrenaline. Bile churned in her stomach, threatening to erupt. She wanted to collapse onto the ground, regain her breath before she had a full-blown panic attack. Her body was demanding she succumb, fall apart at the seams, but her mind was screaming at her to get out of the house. Her heart won out in the end – it chanted "Gran" in a continuous cadence, with each thump-thump it took. She couldn't leave before she found Gran.

Her hands were shaking as she steadied herself against the wall for balance, as she limped her way down the wooden staircase. She stepped as quickly as her limbs would allow, but she was aware that her movements were slow and laborious. Every muscle ached from oxygen deprivation – it felt like she was trying to wade through mud. Tears escaped from her eyes, despite her best efforts to hold them prisoner. A couple of pictures on the wall were catawampus, but overall the house was in good condition, as if a violent hurricane had only hit her bedroom, and nowhere else. It was a slight respite, thinking perhaps not everything was in shambles – that maybe only her life had been destroyed.

The odor had become more pronounced with each step. She slumped over and retched; her stomach could not hold back any longer. Her throat burned viciously as bile and acid hurled upwards through her mouth – she had not eaten for days – landing all over the lacquered wooden floors in the foyer. She took a minute before rebounding from her expulsion – still trembling from lightheadedness and fear. She was on auto-pilot as her feet pulled her into the dining room – empty – and then the living room – empty as well. Each empty space was providing no relief for her anxiety – it was ramping it up, amplifying it times a hundred. Sookie felt barely human, hardly cognizant, as she found herself poised in front of the last door to open, the only space she had yet to check.

Instinctively, she held her breath, pausing and praying before she pushed open the swinging door that led to the kitchen, the area where she had shared so many wonderful moments with her sweet Gran.

Gran.

The woman who had taken Sookie in at the young age of seven after her parents died in a freak accident. The woman who had believed Sookie when she revealed that her great uncle subjected her to "special touching." The woman who had pointed a shotgun at her own brother to tell him in no uncertain terms that she would kill him if he ever came back around. The woman who had shushed away Sookie's fears that she was crazy because she heard other people's "head voices", telling her it was a gift, that she was a gift. The woman who had defended her, soothed her, and loved her unconditionally. The woman who was Sookie's everything; the woman she would give her life for.

The next events occurred in frames, in stills, like an old movie from the 1900s – as least that's how it felt to Sookie, like time was disjointed instead of continuous. The door squeaked and hollered as she gently pushed it in. It was pitch-black inside. "Gran?" She asked meekly, her voice wavering, barely above a whisper. There was no reply.

Slowly, she reached for the switch, flipping on the lights, lifting the veil of darkness. It was an awful scene that lay before her.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Pooled on the linoleum floor. Dripping off the table's edge in slow tortuous drops. Splattered across the cabinets and fridge. Too much blood. The stench was overwhelming. Sookie turned away, hurling again as bile ripped its way through her throat, then dry heaving once her stomach had emptied. Her breath choked out in sobs. Her form crumbled onto the cold floor. From her new angle, she saw Gran laid out in front of the sink – mouth agape, eyes wide in fear; she looked terrified.

"No! No no no no no….Oh god, Gran! Gran…" Sookie stifled a scream, releasing a wail. "Gran, say something…say something, anything. Oh god, please. Please! Please please... Anything…"

Pleading, begging, with no control over the volume of her voice – some of it booming, some of it murmurs, but wet sobs accompanied every word. Sookie tried to comfort herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, scraping them with her nails, accidentally drawing blood; she had lost all feeling in her extremities.

Sookie noticed Gran was wearing her long white nightie – she must have been getting ready for bed. Gran had always loved drinking a glass of warm milk before retiring for the night. The once pure white clothing was stained with days' old blood, patches of red and brown. Gran's favorite glass, the crystal goblet she had inherited from her mother, the one she would joke was meant for more than milk, was clutched firmly in her stiff hand, broken at the base where it had connected with the floor. More cries burst forth as Sookie realized that her grandmother would never partake in this nightly ritual ever again, that she was gone.

Her eyes then lowered and she spotted a steel knife discarded on the floor. She went into shock as she finally allowed herself to perceive the slash Gran's killer had made across her throat, the wound from which of all the blood had spilled.

Sookie's body was no longer cooperating; she felt catatonic, cemented to the ground. Her fingers clawed into the floor, tearing her nails down to the beds, as she tried to pull herself closer to Gran. Little by little, Sookie closed the space between them. She carefully cradled Gran's head to her chest, holding her as close as possible. Sookie lightly trailed her fingers down her grandmother's face, gently closing her eyes and her mouth. Sookie wept openly as she rocked them back and forth, humming her Gran's favorite lullaby. She pressed her forehead gently to her Gran's and silently admonished herself – she had inadvertently caused this by escaping, by allowing herself to be saved. They had come for her and taken their revenge out on her Gran.

Sookie believed it was her fault. All her fault that her Gran had been murdered.

She felt herself passing out, drifting away into blackness, when a large, rough hand clamped over her mouth and snatched her from her Gran. Still in shock, she didn't struggle or try to scream. Her captor pressed her back flush against his chest, letting loose a low growl that rumbled through her. He coarsely dragged his thumb along her face, bruising her cheek, while the other hand snaked its way around her waist. He bent them both forward to retrieve the murder weapon from the bloodied floor. Her body finally gave way, blacking out – it was all too much.

Her last thoughts were that she deserved this, as salty tears continued to spill from her eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you can appreciate that this chapter upset me as much as it probably upset you. This was a difficult chapter to write, and edit. It brings me to tears every time I read it. All I can ask is to please be gentle if you review. Thank you in advance.**


	6. FLASHBACK, Running into the Fray

**A/N: Flashbacks like this one will be announced in the chapter titles.**

 ****Prior to the events in Chapter 1****

* * *

"It's not hers, Eric." Pam deadpanned at her maker.

The blonde vampire was dressed to the nines head to toe, wearing her pink Chanel suit with some saucy Manolo Blahnik snakeskin slingbacks. Her left heel rested casually against the rustic doorframe. Her modelesque attire and statuesque posing unnerved Eric – though not one trace of unease was betrayed by his expression. He had to appreciate the beauty and confidence his child exuded – she had been destined for the nightlife. His child smiled a small self-satisfied smile, her fangs peeking out from her crimson lips, cocking an eyebrow up at his next words.

"How are you inside this house, Pam?" He paused to tamp down the fury rising within him. "Choose. Your. Words. Wisely." He glowered at her.

"I would imagine the same way you got in, _Eric_." She answered back, popping the "c" in his name for emphasis. This wasn't at all how she had expected this night to go. That little human girl had managed to ruin everything – once again.

"The grandmother…" He murmured to himself, but of course Pam's hearing was quite excellent.

"Yes, of course the grandmother. Apparently she subscribed to this thing...what do humans call it again?" She tapped her face animatedly with her pointer finger, thumb tucked under chin, putting on a show, "Oh! _Southern charm._ " Her usual British accent morphing into a mocking drawl, "No challenge at all, quite disappointing really – she invited me in simply because I knocked on her door." She was really hamming it up, going overboard.

Pam took a pause, but Eric said nothing, visibly seething, "Did you have to resort to glamour? Because I didn't." She chuckled at her own words.

Eric sighed, an unnecessary act, looking pensive. He sniffed once again at the aroma that permeated the air. It reeked of werewolves and blood – fresh blood.

"Then whose is it?"

"One guess. And I already told you it's not your little _hobby_ – as much as I had hoped it would be."

"The grandmother…"

Eric felt a pang of sadness sweep over him – Sookie would be devastated. He had watched her long enough to recognize that the older woman acted as her surrogate mother. He understood that humans were particularly attached to the matriarchs in their families – and he had observed that Sookie's 'Gran', as she called her, was her world. It had sparked feelings of jealously within him at times; he didn't understand it, but he felt it all the same.

"Ding. Ding. We have a winner," she said with no inflection in her voice.

"Your little pet project is nowhere to be found, by the way. Untidy little thing, isn't she?" She asked, motioning her hand to indicate the state of the room. "What a fucking slob. Although maybe she was going to set fire to this and the lot?" Pinching the fabric of one of Sookie's dresses between two fingers, holding the offending garment at arm's length. "I don't mind helping her out with that," She said with a giddiness in her voice.

"Pamela, ENOUGH! She is NO SUCH THING!" He growled with a rumble in each words. He looked about the room, noting a mess of clothes on the floor and deep slashes in Sookie's mattress, responding quietly, "You are telling me this hissy fit is not your handiwork?"

"Do you think so little of me? Open your eyes, Eric. I want to kill her, drain her virgin blood from her body, and discard her like yesterday's trash – not rifle through her things."

"And you, what, settled for the elderly woman who could not defend herself!? Because it was NO CHALLENGE?!" He snapped back, mimicking the words from Pam's earlier admission, needling at her; the beast within him raging.

"No! Of course not! That was an… unpleasant surprise." her voice trailing off with her last words.

Pam felt the glisten in the edge of her eyes; she forced her bloody tears back from their descent. She was… sad to find the human woman dead, motionless on the kitchen floor. Gran had been so kind to her, insisting she call her 'Gran' the night they first met, offering her a seat on the couch like she was a welcomed friend. Pam would never tell her maker that she had enjoyed how human this woman had made her feel, that she somewhat understood the appeal of having a human _._ The woman had walked Pam out, asking her to call again, telling her she really had enjoyed talking with her. To Pam's own astonishment, she had returned a couple of times, to sit at the table, pretend to drink sweet tea, and chat with Gran.

Pam had abandoned her earlier plot to eliminate the youngest Stackhouse because killing Sookie would've hurt Gran. Now she regretted her inaction – it would've saved her friend. She felt sick to her stomach – something impossible – thinking that Gran had been killed by werewolves who were after Sookie, caught in the crossfire.

It was hard not to connect the dots – Sookie was gone, her room was ransacked, the whole house stank of dogs. Pam wished she would have choked the life out of Sookie before it came to this. That little girl had driven her master crazy, and managed to attract an enemy who had struck at her only human friend. Pam hoped Sookie had been taken dead, not alive. If not, Pam intended to redouble her efforts to rid the world of the plague that was _Sookie Stackhouse_. Lost in her thoughts, Pam snapped back to reality as an unimaginable utterance passed Eric's lips.

"This is all my fault. I failed her."

And with that, Pam's maker vamped out the window and took to the sky, lost from sight in mere seconds.

"FUCK!"

Pam screamed in fury, as bloody tears streamed down her face. She proceeded to eviscerate everything in sight, finally succumbing to the bloodlust and sorrow she had been holding at bay all night. Little survived; from the silly figurines to the worn quilt still folded on the end of the up-heaved bed, she rent it all to pieces. Pam spared but a few victims from her rage – the wooden furniture – only because she had no intention of meeting her final death by way of flying splinters.

* * *

Eric did his best to follow Sookie's honeyed perfume, but even with his vampiric sense of smell, it had proved difficult. Her fear had likely overpowered her natural scent. Pam called a couple of times, but Eric let them all go to voicemail; she could feel him in their maker-child bond – he wasn't going to waste time indulging her childish worries.

He regretted not slipping Sookie a dose of his blood at some point in the last two years. His code of honor had stopped him from forcing a bond, taking away her choice in the matter. But he had spared her at what cost? She had been abducted, out from under him, and he had no idea where she was or what was happening to her. He told himself that given the chance again, to get his blood inside her, he would not hesitate to remedy his past mistake. He had to do everything within his power to protect her. He didn't care if she might despise him for being high-handed about her safety; he was willing to make that sacrifice. He would rather she was alive hating him, then dead possibly liking him.

He thought of Schrodinger and the cat – this situation felt oddly reminiscent – Sookie was neither dead, nor alive until it could be confirmed – until the box was opened, so to speak. It was killing him that he couldn't feel her; he was desperate to know whether or not she was okay. His sorrow was consuming, deep, and unrelenting. He had never felt anything like this before.

Eric's pain didn't abate for three long nights.

Throughout each night, Eric would hunt for her, tearing through any building that carried even a small whiff of Weres. When possible, he glamoured the wolves he captured in hopes of uncovering useful information; he killed each and every disappointment. Feeling out of control, feral, he didn't attempt to don the human façade, and kept mostly to the shadows, going to ground before sunrise. For sustenance, he picked off drunk men stumbling home alone from the bar. Their blood was foul and laced with toxins, but he was intent only on survival, and it would suffice. He preferred to think of it as penance, for letting this happen.

* * *

On the third night, Eric finally caught a viable lead, stumbling accidentally upon a Were high on V – vampire blood – who carried Sookie's scent; it took everything in his power not to rend the wolf limb from limb. Instead he followed him to a remote warehouse. Creeping through a second-level window, he took notice that the structure was dank and dark – and contained the unmistakable smell of a vampire, one he did not recognize. He could hear Sookie choking out frightened sobs.

"Tell us where it is!"

Eric heard them yell at her. She responded emphatically that she didn't understand what they meant. Physically, they weren't hurting her, but it still took everything in him not to swoop down to her and slaughter them all. He wanted to trust her, believe she would accept him as a vampire, but it wasn't just his undead life at risk if he was wrong; he would be risking Pam, his own maker, his fellow nightwalkers, his way of life – and even Sookie. Her death would be so swift that even at 1000 years old he would not be able to stop it.

The interrogation went on and on the same way for hours. He thought perhaps they had targeted the wrong human; she didn't seem to know what they wanted from her. Eventually they became exasperated and their inquiries ceased, leaving her all by herself. He waited until he heard her breathing even out – a tell-tale sign she had fallen asleep – before levitating down from his window perch to the cold cement floor. He broke the lock on the door before walking over to her. She looked smaller, unfed, but mostly intact. He nudged her awake and she looked up at him with sleepy-eyes.

"They left the door unlocked," he said, but of course they hadn't, "we have to get out of here."

"Who are you? I didn't know anyone else was here…"

Her brow creased as she tried to listen for his thoughts. She could see him in front of her, but there was a void where his mind should be. He was the second void she had encountered in the last few days. But then again, she had trouble reading everyone in the warehouse – 'maybe it's me,' she thought.

He leaned in towards her, and whispered into her ear, "Trust me."

Instinctively, she did. And together, they sprinted out into the moonlight.


	7. Running the Show

"You need to calm down. You are safe."

"Says the man who's holding me hostage!"

At least she hasn't realized I'm not a man, Eric thought to himself. His irritation was growing at her anger, but she was right – he was not going to allow her to leave, not after what happened the last time she was on her own. He wondered how she could be so foolish to go home after he left a note specifically asking her to do the opposite. He had heard of this, of people who refused to take direction, who went left when told to go right – for the sheer petulance of it all. Those people, as he understood it, usually died young.

"You should be grateful _I_ found you, and not someone else."

He hissed at her, his fangs threatening to pop out. He thought of Pam and how she teased him about his lack of control when it came to this particular human. His patience for Pam's colorful commentary had come to an end. He had been too lenient with her as of late, letting her overstep her bounds – all because he had been worrying too often about Sookie. Pam had minced no words to tell him she thought this a mistake, bringing Sookie here, into one of his many safehouses – but she was wrong. With Sookie secured, he felt once again like his old self – the fucking badass Viking Sheriff of Area Five, and his child Pam was an underling. He had punished her for her smart mouth – she was properly shown her place.

" _Excuse me_?" Sookie retorted back incredulously. "You want me to _thank you_ for tying me up? For _kidnapping me_?! NEVER!" She screamed at him, pulling at her restraints – the ropes beginning to cut into the soft skin of her wrists. Blood dribbled out of her wounds. He visibly shuddered as her scent hit his nostrils; he was desperate to taste her. She assumed he shook in anger, scooting far away from him to the edge of the bed. He could plainly see the fear in her bright blue eyes.

"STOP STRUGGLING! Don't make this even harder!"

And with that Eric swept out of the room, locking it from the outside once the door was shut. She could no longer be trusted with her own safety. She meant too much to him, and she was too reckless. In time, he expected she would realize this was for the best, appreciate what he was doing for her. Perhaps, once her enemies were dispatched, he would allow her to negotiate for some freedoms, but even then he wouldn't let her go far – she was his; this was right, the way things should be.

* * *

Sookie stared at the door, hearing the tell-tale click as he locked it from the outside. At times, she wasn't sure whether he was a man or a monster. She knew it wasn't smart to talk back to him – he was a crazy person, thinking he was doing her some big favor – but, after being trapped for weeks, she found it was impossible to hold her tongue; the filter between her brain and her mouth had disintegrated.

This exchange had gone just as well as their last. She felt like Eric was driving her crazy. She finally knew his name: Eric; he had told her to call him Eric.

She sighed and leaned back against the wooden headboard; her hands clasped and tied behind her back. The ropes were too tight, and they hurt. Slowly and methodically, she twisted and turned her hands to work at the knots with her delicate fingers. Once freed, she hobbled into the ensuite bathroom – her foot still throbbing from its earlier impalement – to carefully rinse the blood off her wrists. Eric had never bound her before, but she knew what she had done to set him off. It had been a mistake to slap him. When she hit him, his eyes burned like fire for a moment and then he had grabbed her arms, producing a rope from behind him. He explained it was to protect her, that his control might break if she struck him again. Her panic rising, she struggled to catch her breath; he had reached out his hand to stroke her cheek, but she flinched away from him. It was then that he had told her to calm down and she had done the opposite.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her tan had dulled a bit and her cheek bore a soft, yellowish bruise. She had pebbled scabs running down each arm, an injury she had caused herself. It was oddly comforting that she hadn't woken up spontaneously healed, even if she had remained sore for the past couple of weeks. She started the water to fill the white clawfoot tub, adding some bubble bath and Epsom salts. It had surprised her when she discovered the care and thought he had put into her accommodations. He had even asked her, the first night, what else she may require for her comfort. In that moment she had been too upset to answer him, having just lost her Gran on top of becoming someone else's prisoner. But before she drifted to sleep she had slipped a list under the door; she needed to know what sort of man she was dealing with, whether he had actually cared. When she woke the next morning, it was all there – from bath products to reading material – but he had also installed a lock on the outside of the door. Since then, she had spent almost every waking moment alone in a windowless room – her spirit breaking, losing all hope that he would ever let her out.

Stepping into the tub, she relaxed and let her mind wander.

Eric terrified her, but he also intrigued her. She felt this unexplainable pull to him, like Beauty to the Beast. 'Perhaps this is what Stockholm syndrome feels like,' she thought. She believed him when he said he cared for her well-being, her safety. But more often than not, he would do something generous and selfless, only to follow it up with something nasty or... downright cruel. She was losing her spark, becoming someone she barely recognized. She chastised herself for thinking at one time that he might have love for her, that they could make a weird life of this. No, she admitted, this wasn't a fairytale – he was crazy and she was merely the object of his obsession, his hostage. She couldn't go on like this much longer; she had to get as far away from this house as possible.

* * *

After locking the door, Eric knew he needed fresh blood to calm himself. 'It is okay to leave her,' he told himself, 'She is safe, as safe as she can be.' His houses had been warded by witches, to keep out anyone who hadn't been issued an explicit invitation. It would serve to stop whatever unknown vampire sought to do harm to his precious Sookie. And he had the bond, which was thrumming with her emotions. He had never bonded to a human before, and he wondered if they all experienced such a strange mix of feelings. Often, he sensed that Sookie felt conflicted; it had been no different since she had come under his care.

Eric enjoyed her lust the most – it had even woken him from his day death after he left her at the motel.

* * *

His hand had been firmly grasping his member, stroking lightly. He imagined it was her tiny soft skin rubbing him, bringing him a quick release before succumbing once again to the pull of the sun with a fangy smile on his face. But he was anything but happy at sunset. He touched at their bond to learn that she was immobile, in one spot. Someone on the run should be moving at all times; he did not like it one bit. He took flight in her direction and as he got closer her tie went blank. It had not disappeared, which meant she had gone in shock.

In that moment, he knew exactly where she had journeyed.

He felt her heartbreak as if it was his own. He found her sitting on the floor, clutching her grandmother's dead body to her chest, soaked in blood – some of it her own. She was oblivious – humming a lullaby he couldn't place – and he was overwhelmed, for the second time, by the scent of her blood. When she had broken her ankle, it had been nearly impossible to stop himself from plunging his fangs into her soft flesh. Her blood smelled so fucking good, like freedom; she was like sunshine in a pretty blonde bottle. He had not allowed himself to taste her. The situation in front of him was nothing if not worse. Blood had saturated her clothing; that combined with the smell of her honeyed skin was making it difficult for him to stamp down his bloodlust.

He pulled her roughly from the body she held and placed his hand firmly over her mouth, having no desire to entertain human hysterics. But she hadn't struggled; something that disappointed the beast inside him who had wanted her to wiggle her body against him as he tore into her flesh. It was taking everything in his power not to bite her and glut himself on her blood. A deep growl tore from his chest as he warred inside himself. The scent of her tears pulled him back from his madness, gave him a modicum of control; something he needed to stop himself from killing her. He attempted to wipe them away, sure he had done it wrong – been too rough with her. He was relieved when she passed out, flying them into the night towards one of his many houses. He had decided he was never again going to give her the chance to endanger herself.

* * *

"Hello? Is someone here? Hello?"

Sookie heard somebody calling out loudly inside the house. They yelled over and over, but got no response. She realized that Eric must have left after he locked her in. She jumped from the tub, ignoring the pain in her foot, as she rushed to dry and clothe herself.

"Up here!" She shouted back from her locked, windowless room, "I'm up here!"

Sookie wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She knew Eric might try to come after her, but she figured all she needed was a good head start – this was her chance to finally make a run for it.


	8. The Final Run

"Up here! Up here!" Sookie shouted over and over until she heard the lock disengage.

A fashionable young woman gingerly opened the door, stepping gracefully inside before shutting it behind her. Sookie noticed she was very attractive – a leggy blonde in a form-fitting black dress and 6-inch heels with plump, blood-red lips. Sookie had never been one to harbor feelings of low self-esteem – she herself was an attractive, busty blonde – but in that moment she thought she paled in comparison to the woman in front of her. She felt a twinge of jealousy move through her as she realized this beauty was somehow connected to Eric. She shrugged the emotion quickly. That woman could have him – Sookie was finally going to go outside again, see the sun, be free. Her optimism was short-lived however; Sookie's heart fell at the woman's first utterance.

"Don't get your hopes up. I'm not going to let you leave, sweet pea." The Brit had said in a surprisingly calm voice.

Sookie cast her gaze downward and slumped onto the bed, feeling momentarily defeated. "Then why are you here?"

"I wanted to meet you; see how you are."

"Why do you care? You just said you're not going to let me leave."

"I'm not allowed to let you leave. I never said I didn't want to."

Sookie looked up, carefully considering what the woman had said. She wanted to believe there was truth in her admission. But Sookie wasn't going to be a naïve little girl anymore – trusting everyone who greeted her with a smile – she knew she needed to proceed with caution. For the first time in weeks, the door was unlocked – the immovable barrier between her and the world had been breached – and the way she saw it, there was only one more obstacle to overcome. Sookie sized up the woman in front of her – all she had to do was get past this skinny blonde, and it didn't look like it would be much of a challenge.

"I understand you're reticent to trust me. It's smart to question my intentions. They are not always honorable," the woman joked, giggling lightheartedly.

She stood in front of the door facing Sookie, blocking any chance of escape. Sookie sat silent, watching the blonde guardedly from her position on the bed – the length of the room between them. She needed the woman to move away from the door, then she would bolt – maybe even lock the blonde in.

"Let's start simple. I am Pamela Ravenscroft, but I would prefer you call me Pam."

"Nice to meet you, Pam. I'm Sookie, Sookie Stackhouse."

Although Sookie would have normally extended her hand when making a new acquaintance, she did not move from her spot. This wasn't a friendly encounter; Sookie didn't care what Pam said – she was obviously in Eric's thrall, otherwise she would have acted like a decent human being and called the police or at least let her go. Pam crossed her arms and leaned her back against the door, gazing at Sookie in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable, the way a dog stares at a bone. Sookie knew it was being used as an intimidation tactic – Eric did the same to her all the time – and she was tired of being scared. She preferred to be nice, congenial, but desperate times called for desperate measures – no more Ms. Nice Girl. Just as Pam had opened her mouth, Sookie started to speak, interrupting her.

"Why are you _really_ here?"

Pam smiled a bit at the question, inwardly impressed that Sookie had cut to the chase, so to speak, calling her out on her lie. She was clever…for a breather. And not nearly as naïve as Eric had always made her out to be. It was plainly obvious that she had fire, spunk – she seemed saucy and strong. Pam had always been attracted to feisty women, and the one in front of her was no exception. Perhaps, she could convince Eric to share Sookie. He was sure to grow tired of the human over time – he could never let the unglamourable girl go; she was a veritable threat to their survival. Pam's feelings for the girl had not necessarily changed, but a well-timed maker's command had put a damper on all of her homicidal plotting. Plus, Pam knew that she didn't have to like Sookie to take pleasure in her body.

Pam had to admit that Sookie smelled quite delectable – perhaps it was why Eric had left her virginity intact. She lightly licked her lips as her eyes lingered, taking note that Sookie's breasts were large and fairly luscious, firm with just the hint of a tan. As Pam fantasized about what it might be like to see Sookie naked, she stepped away from the door, moving to sit in the chair – Sookie's scent was even sweeter up close.

"Are you his wife? Is that why you're protecting him?" Sookie said, glancing at the door before scooting towards the front edge of the bed.

"No," Pam laughed, "I am most certainly not his wife."

"His girlfriend?"

"Let's say I'm sort of like his sister."

Sookie didn't believe that for a second, and she told Pam so, "I don't believe you."

"I'm kind of glad that you don't," Pam said, remembering as the words passed her lips that humans took issue to sexual relations between siblings. Sookie would likely be much more reluctant to participate in a threesome if she thought they were breaking some social protocol.

Pam was enjoying this conversation much more than she would have expected – thinking that perhaps she had judged this girl too quickly. Sookie wasn't all bad, parts of her were very _enticing_. Pam was quickly starting to see the appeal of Sookie Stackhouse. She couldn't beat Sookie to death, but perhaps she could join her - in bed; amusing herself at how she had mangled the human phrase to fit her own situation.

"Do you love him – Eric?" Sookie asked, breaking Pam's train of thought.

"I wouldn't exactly call it love."

"Did you come here behind his back?"

"It's not really possible for me to do things behind his back."

"That's a non-answer," Sookie pouted, titillating Pam.

Sookie placed her hands on her hips in mock anger, puckering her lips and popping out her chest a bit. Sookie thought she might be laying it on a little thick but, as it turned out, Pam was entranced, following Sookie's every movement with rapt attention. Sookie was betting that flirting might work on a girl like Pam – she saw her staring a little too hungrily at her breasts, and her telepathy had exposed long ago the meaning behind that kind of look. Even though this woman's thoughts were surprisingly blank to her, it was obvious they were in the gutter, and Sookie was going to exploit every opportunity she could to make her escape.

"Felt like one to me." Pam purred back.

"You're not going to be straight at all with me, are you?"

Sookie said pleased, a smile rippling across her face. Pam had finally leaned back in her chair, gotten comfortable. Sookie, during their tête-à-tête, had risen from the bed, to stand close to the door. She could tell that Pam was distracted, having a little too much fun with this conversation.

"I am many things, but never straight," Pam said humorously, "Perhaps, it is your fault for asking the wrong questions." She quipped back playfully. Pam grinned at Sookie's blatant flirting; she was eager to get much _friendlier_ with the girl in front of her. Pam believed she had found the real reason why Sookie didn't sleep with men, and she wondered how mad Eric would be if it was Sookie who jumped at her. Surely, he couldn't expect her to refuse such a tasty morsel.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are one hell of a flirt?"

"Of course! I hear it all the time!" Pam roared in laughter. Yes, she thought, this would be worth whatever punishment Eric would concoct. In that moment, she could understand her maker's compulsion to stalk this girl; she was quite the tempting little minx. Pam was relieved she had not killed the Stackhouse girl. It would have been a shame to miss the chance to slip her tongue past Sookie's supple lips, glide her fingertips over Sookie's skin, pausing to memorize each of her haunting curves. Pam closed her eyes, breathing deeply in anticipation, letting her lusty thoughts consume her. Perhaps this was the start of a beautiful, sexy friendship.

"Sorry, Pam." And with that the door slammed, the lock clicking from the outside.

Pam's libidinous musings disappeared – like she had been doused with a bucket of ice water – startling her out of her daydream. That little bitch had tricked her! She could hear Sookie running down the wooden staircase, heading for the front door. She knew that Eric would deliver her the true death if she let Sookie escape. Pam tore the door from its hinges and vamped after her, tackling Sookie and knocking her down the stairs. Sookie hit the foot of the stairs with a loud smack. On impact, Sookie felt a couple of ribs crack and her shoulder dislocate; her head hurt something fierce. Pulling her hand out from under her hair, she saw it was covered in blood. She was woozy and light-headed; she couldn't understand what had happened.

Moments later Sookie felt someone yank her roughly up by the hair. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks from the pain, discomfort, and disappointment – freedom had been so close, within her reach.

"Sweet pea, you…smell delicious," Pam growled, shuddering at each word, her bloodlust rising, "I could just eat you up, you naughty girl. And I think I deserve to for that little stunt you just pulled."

With that, Pam licked her tongue along Sookie's neck before plunging her fangs in viciously, pulling long draws from Sookie's carotid artery. Sookie's blood was like ambrosia, intoxicating. Pam knew the maker's command would stop her short of killing the girl, so she drank and drank without regard for Sookie's well-being – getting high off the taste of her.

'Holy shit,' Sookie thought, 'Pam has fangs!'

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Eric whooshed into the room, fangs bared as well, hissing at Pam in a foreign language Sookie didn't recognize. He shouted again, in English, for Pam to let her go, authority dripping in his tone. Sookie let out a blood curdling screamed as she fainted dead away, collapsing onto the ground with one lingering thought on her mind...

'Vampires – it explained so much somehow – they were vampires!'


	9. FLASHBACK, Sunshine on My Windows

**A/N: Flashback**

 ****A Couple of Years Before Chapter 1****

* * *

"Are you off to work, Sookie dear?"

"Yes, Gran. Just until 6pm; I should be home in time for dinner," Sookie said leaning down to kiss her grandmother affectionately on the forehead. She gathered her keys and purse from the counter. She enjoyed living with her grandmother, even at 20 years old. Some kids couldn't wait to get out from under the parental thumb, but Sookie secretly hoped they could live together forever.

Gran sat at the kitchen table, sorting her recipe cards on the surface in front of her. The Stackhouse matriarch took great pride in her cooking and her recipes, arranging each carefully, scribbling little notations in the margins as she took each dish closer and closer to perfection. Gran's favorite moments were spent alongside Sookie at the stovetop, bringing one of her culinary masterpieces to life.

"Jason's coming for dinner. I'm thinking of making fried chicken with biscuits and gravy. What do you think, dear?"

"Oh, Jase will be here? Great…that's just great!"

Sookie feigned excitement; she and her brother had been on the outs as of late. Or really, as of always, but it had been worse recently. Jason never cared much for his little sister; she was "Crazy Sookie" and he felt like she cramped his popular lifestyle – hurt his reputation. Jason was proudly known around town as a man-whore – dipping his wick into any girl impressed by the tales of his high school football exploits, and lately he was, primarily, fucking one of Sookie's old classmates, Dawn Greene. Sookie knew she was trouble – having plucked a thought from Dawn's mind about poking holes in condoms – and she tried to tell her brother, causing the current discontent in their relationship. Jason figured that Sookie was just being petty – Dawn had been Sookie's friend turned bully once her breasts developed – and he had told Sookie outright to stay the fuck out of his business.

Sookie really didn't want to see her brother, but Gran had always taught her to turn the other cheek and Jason was always going to be family. She could put aside their differences for one night – she would do anything for her Gran.

"Fried chicken sounds perfect, Gran. Do you need me to pick anything up on the way home?"

"Oh sweetheart, that's so nice of you to offer. I can't think of a single thing, but thank you."

"You're welcome, Gran, I love you."

"Love you too, baby girl."

* * *

Sookie worked at Merlotte's Bar and Grill as a waitress. Her telepathy was a help and a hindrance to her daily duties; while some people appreciated their needs being anticipated, others questioned it. Only a select number of people knew that she could read minds – Gran, Jason, her best friend Tara, and her boss Sam Merlotte – but everyone in Bon Temps had long ago decided that something was gravely wrong with Sookie Stackhouse. Although their words were mostly filled with fake niceties, there were constant whispers about "Crazy Sookie" – and their thoughts were venomous.

Freak. Crazy. Stupid. Pitiful.

Sookie did her best to give goodness to the world, but she got little back. Her life was mostly lonely – even her close friends were reserved around her, afraid she would pluck their deepest darkest secrets out of their minds. She spent so much energy pretending to be normal, like everyone else – it was exhausting. She couldn't shrug the feeling that her telepathy was a curse, a device to drive her crazy – perhaps a punishment for something. Gran had told Sookie that was silly, that her telepathy was a gift, that God loved her and his plan for her would reveal itself in time. She desperately wanted to believe her Gran, but year after year she was losing hope.

* * *

"Well that sucks," Sookie muttered after discovering that the battery in her car was dead.

Sookie had called home earlier in the night to let Gran know she wouldn't be able to make dinner. Sam asked her to pick up the second shift at Merlotte's Bar and Grill after Arlene called in – Coby had come down with the stomach flu – she accepted quickly, needing the extra funds. Sookie was also kind of glad she wouldn't have to deal with Jason, even though it meant missing Gran's amazing cooking. She knew she couldn't expect leftovers; whatever Jason didn't finish he'd take home with him. Jason couldn't cook his way out of a paper bag – without Gran, Jason would probably starve to death.

Sookie was the first in and last out of Merlotte's that night. Sam had trusted Sookie to close up shop, a responsibility she took very seriously. While her coworkers had jumped in their cars and peeled out of the parking lot minutes after the last drunk customer was pushed out the door, Sookie stuck around for a bit to sweep the floors and wipe down the bar. It was well after 2:30am by the time she realized that her old yellow car wouldn't start. Sookie went back inside and dialed almost every number she could remember by heart – Tara, Sam, and begrudgingly Jason – but no one picked up. She considered calling triple A, but she and Gran really needed that money for bills. No, she was going to have to walk a couple of miles home.

"A little exercise never hurt anyone," she said encouragingly to herself before beginning her trek. As it turned out her walk home wasn't destined to be solo at all.

* * *

"You shouldn't be out here all alone, in the dark like this."

Sookie stopped in her tracks, surprised to see a tall, attractive man standing within feet of her, rather close. She wondered why he would be out this time of night, patting at the pepper spray in her pocket just to remind herself it was there. When she let down her shields – the constructs in her mind that blocked the constant flow of thoughts from those around – she found he was somehow blank, like white noise on a TV. She could see him in front of her, but it was like his mind wasn't there. She stepped closer to him, but the static didn't abate. Weird, she thought, chalking it up to her long day – she had been awake for over 18 hours; her brain had started to mush a bit after 15. Thank goodness late night customers were usually already buzzed on alcohol, which tended to make their minds a little fuzzier to her, easier to block out. She supposed this man was also a bit influenced by the grain, maybe even three sheets to the wind.

"Oh, I'm alright. Thank you for your concern. I'm just heading home."

"Perhaps you should come with me instead."

'Yep, he's definitely drunk,' Sookie thought to herself, surprised at the pressure in her head that had come and gone with his words. From her experience as a waitress, she had learned drunk people were almost always pushy, and sometimes grabby – at least he hadn't tried to cop a feel. She answered, turning away from him to resume walking, hoping he would stumble away.

"Oh, I'll be okay. Again, thank you. I hope you have a good night."

She could hear him padding along behind her on the dirt path. 'Shoot! He's following me. What would Gran do?' Gran would be inviting; she believed that southern women always expected the best from people. Plus, Gran hated when Sookie walked home alone. Gran believed that a woman walking out late by herself was a woman asking for trouble. Sookie always countered that trouble doesn't have a watch and showed up at all hours of the day. She chuckled nervously as she invited him to join her. Still, the man said nothing. His silence was unnerving. She tried to introduce herself, one hand in front of her while the other clutched the pepper spray in her pocket – she wasn't going to wait any longer to find out what kind of man he was. But, he simply turned and headed in the other direction.

'Well, that was kind of effing weird,' Even in her own head, Sookie tried to abstain from using expletives.

* * *

"Hello Sookie."

'Again? Geez, are all the weirdos walking this same road?' She thought to herself. 'What the h-e-double hockey sticks is going on tonight?'

Sookie whipped around, surprised and fearful. Pulling the pepper spray from her pocket, she aimed it at the person in front of her who somehow knew her name – gasping at her discovery that it was not the drunk man from before. It was well past 3 o'clock in the morning; no one she knew would dare venture out this late – except maybe Jason, but the voice told her it was definitely not Jason.

"Your pepper spray won't work on me."

Panic began to rise within Sookie. Was he lying? Was this going to be the last night of her short life? Was her car breaking down an omen? Questions fluttered through her head as she shook, keeping the spray aimed in his direction.

"What do you want from me?" Sookie croaked out, her voice wavering.

"Now Sookie, I know you were brought up with better manners. I am Fintan Brigant; I'm a friend of your grandmother – Adele. I want to give you another gift."

Sookie let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding at the mention of her Gran. Gran was well-known in Bon Temps, but she rarely traveled outside their small town. If this stranger said he knew her Gran, calling her by her given name – it just had to be the truth. She relaxed a little, slipping the spray back into her pocket.

"A gift?"

"Your Gran will be able to explain more, I promise Sookie. She knows that I was coming to find you. The course of your life has changed tonight – whether or not you realize it. I am sorry to say my previous gift caused hardships for you I could not have anticipated. But I have strived since to protect you, to protect your family – I have given my entire life and I will continue to."

Sookie was trying to absorb everything he was saying – her subsequent talk with Gran would hopefully fill in the gaps to Fintan's short speech. He wasn't make any sense at all to her; she had a long talk with Gran scheduled in their future. But Sookie was so tired, she wondered how much of this was really happening and how much was the onslaught of exhaustion setting in.

Fintan produced a small green compact-looking item with gold edging from his pocket. Sookie noticed that he held the bauble with a certain level of reverence, as if it was precious. He ran his thumb over the object repeatedly as he eyed it, as if he was hesitant to part with it. Unceremoniously, he thrust his hand out, in her direction, asking her to take it from him.

"You may not understand, or believe me, but this is sacred. Your grandmother and I made this years ago – with our love – for you. You are special Sookie, precious; the Gods favor you – never doubt that."

And with that, he seemingly vanished, leaving Sookie standing bewildered with the small green trinket resting in her palm. Thoroughly puzzled, she shoved it into her back pocket and trudged the rest of the way home, to collapse into bed wondering how so much had happened because of something as insignificant as a dead car battery.


	10. Honeyed Sunlight and the North Sea

**A/N:** **Min älskade = my beloved**

* * *

"You're a vampire."

Sookie croaked out, jerking uncontrollably with each word, her throat still burning from Pam's vicious bite. While the flow of blood had stilled, her head throbbed from where it had struck the floor after she tumbled down the stairs, causing black spots in her vision as she gazed up into Eric's steely-blue eyes. His fangs had retracted, but she knew they were there and somehow it gave her comfort; he wasn't a man or a monster – he was a vampire, and that explained a lot in Sookie's mind.

Eric gently slid a lock of hair behind her ear, brushing his cold fingers against her cool cheek. He noted her change in temperature, but did not let his worry show in his expression. Sookie was laying her side on the floor; her head resting on Eric's lap, as he lightly drew circles with the tips of his fingers on the small of her back. The 3-foot tall doctor was diligent at work with her ministrations, charging Eric to keep the semi-conscious Sookie calm so that her heartbeat wouldn't quicken, while she checked for internal damages and such.

"Yes, min älskade."

Sookie did not know the words, but Eric's tone conveyed their meaning. She smiled weakly; her eyes fluttering open and shut as she fought against her body to stay awake.

After Pam had unceremoniously dropped Sookie – compelled by a stronger than usual maker's command – Eric had rushed to Sookie's side, pricking his thumb on his fang to rub blood into her head and neck wounds, but he knew it would do nothing to abate her pain or cure any internal injuries. He considered feeding Sookie more of his blood, but Pam had drunk quite a bit from her – he could not be sure how much. He feared his 1000-year old blood might turn her into a vampire instead of healing her human body. Eric refused to make Sookie a creature of the night without her permission, force an eternity on the woman lying in his arms. However, he secretly hoped it was something she would agree to a later date.

Eric instead had called Amy Ludwig, a doctor who catered to supernatural clients, to assess Sookie's ability to be restored – but not turned – by vampire blood. If his blood was not a viable option, the doctor had been authorized to heal Sookie by whatever means necessary; he could not lose her.

* * *

Dr. Ludwig was a very busy woman, in high demand with a heavy caseload. Supernaturals from all over the world called her for medical advice. Nothing she dealt with was "normal" by human standards, but she would remember this night as being the strangest night of her entire career.

Northman – as she called him – had phoned her personally, something he had never done. She was seconds from referring him to another doctor when he requested she come look at a human that he refused to call his pet – even when asked forthright if it was the nature of their relationship. Dr. Ludwig's curiosity was peaked to say the least. Once Northman mentioned he wanted to heal the girl with his blood, she decided this was too interesting of a case to pass up - vampires were highly possessive when it came to their blood, and Northman previously had not been an exception.

She had 'popped' into his safehouse within minutes to find a young blonde woman covered in blood, riddled with several broken bones at the foot of the staircase – instantly privy to the discord brewing between Northman and his petulant child, Pam.

* * *

"You know you're going to _have_ to kill her, which is a pity because she's delicious."

"I am not going to kill Sookie because of your foolish actions, Pamela. But you, on the other hand...I have not decided what I am going to do about you."

Pam was shocked; she knew she'd be in trouble with Eric, but she never thought he would consider ending her undead life over something like this. Pam agreed she carried some blame for the current predicament, but it was mostly the Stackhouse girl's fault, the way Pam saw it. If the girl hadn't tried to run away, Pam would have never had cause to chase her, which had led to the topple down the stairs. She had been driven to act by the love she had for her maker; she had to protect Eric, and their secret. Once the scent of Sookie's blood hit the air, it was impossible for Pam to resist biting her – surely Eric understood that Pam's young age prevented her from having the same level of restraint that he did.

"Ahem," The doctor cleared her throat loudly; having seen the state of her new patient she knew there was no time to waste on petty squabbles, "So there's no question then? You want me to treat her?"

"Of course," Eric growled, responding more harshly than he intended.

He quite liked the doctor, but his anger at his child was overwhelming his ability to remain in control. Pam had gone behind his back and contrived a situation that had ended with Sookie broken at the bottom of the stairs and their secret exposed. In truth, he also had to admit that he was a little jealous his child had sampled the very delicacy he had denied himself – one he was still denying himself with much difficulty as the sweet perfume of Sookie's blood hung richly in the air.

"If your child can't control herself, I suggest you send her away, Northman. I will not have her causing further damage to my patient." Said the diminutive woman.

Eric shot a look at Pam, who was shuddering at each inhalation she unnecessarily took, twitching like a crack addict looking for her next fix.

"Pam, as your maker I command you to leave and you will not return again until I call for you."

With bloody tears starting to fall, Pam vamped out of the house, hating that she had been a disappointment to her maker. She would put her affairs in order; this was likely to be her last night.

'I was trying to help and instead I have failed my maker," Pam thought as she left.

* * *

Not minutes later, Sookie's breathing had become labored; her shaking more like convulsions, as she started to drift in and out of consciousness. Eric found himself becoming anxious, a feeling he only ever seemed to experience around her. He wished he understood more about humans and their fragile bodies; all he knew for sure was that Sookie's was failing. Had he a beating heart, he suspected it would be trying to burst out of his chest cavity.

"Hurry," He barked at the doctor, "Can I give her blood or not?"

"Patience," Ludwig answered calmly, swirling a test tube to mix Sookie's blood with another unknown liquid, waiting for the result. It changed to a vibrant blue – and while Dr. Ludwig was utterly surprised, none of it was betrayed on her face.

"Yes, her body will accept your blood without kicking off the change. But be cautious of how much. Her brain is swelling from the blow to her head, causing the tremors; it's what's killing her now, not the blood loss. But you must stop feeding her your blood once the spasms are gone – in my professional opinion, that's the most you can do for her tonight if you don't wish to turn her. Her body needs time to replenish its own blood supply; I'm going to give her some iron supplements to help speed the process along. If you want, you can give her more of your blood tomorrow night to help repair the broken bones and such. Otherwise, she will heal in time."

Eric sighed in relief, shocking Ludwig for the third time that night before she added, "I will return tomorrow to speak with her about her recovery."

And with that the little doctor was gone, vanishing almost instantly.

Eric tore violently at his own wrist, ripping open a vein, offering his blood to Sookie, whose head was still cradled in his lap. "It will heal you," he said.

She was lucid, in that moment, nodding slightly, giving Eric the affirmation he was seeking. She sucked greedily at his wound until it closed, her autonomic movements slowing with each mouthful until she had stilled entirely.

"Thank you," Sookie said softly, capturing his eyes, before drifting peacefully off to sleep.

* * *

Eric gazed at the beauty resting against him. She had tried to leave him, but he was not angry at her for that – he was incensed at himself. When he arrived home, to see Pam devouring Sookie, he had immediately recognized his folly in containing her like a prisoner. She had told him she felt she was merely his hostage, and he had ignored her – too grateful and elated that her safety was assured. But he had been wrong.

Keeping her, quite literally, in the dark had not protected her – Pam's attack had made that quite clear.

He would make Pam tell him later what lengths Sookie had gone to to gain her freedom. The plan must have been good since it had worked; she had been released from her locked cage. And if Pam had been a human, Sookie would be long gone. But Pam was a vampire. Sookie had risked her life trying to escape, and she hadn't even known it. What if she had gotten outside? There was an unknown vampire after her; she had enemies with strengths she couldn't fathom – he could've lost her forever.

* * *

He brushed his fingers affectionately along her cheek; a rare smile breaching his normally placid countenance. He could feel his blood inside of her knitting some of her wounds back together, healing her. He liked the sensations it sent coursing through him. He carefully moved her head off of his lap so he could rise to lift her bridal style into his arms, being cautious of her sore ribs and dislocated shoulder.

Despite her stupor, Sookie tugged at his shirt, and threw her usable arm around his neck, nuzzling her cheek into his chest. "Gods, the things this woman does to me," He thought to himself willing down the erection building in his pants. He sniffed at her and was pleased to find his own scent was emanating off her skin. 'Honeyed sunlight and the North Sea," he thought, 'Amazing.'

Eric contemplated how his marking might change things. With his musk heavy within her, Sookie would be identified as his by other supernaturals. That would offer her some semblance of protection, but it was not enough. A vampire would be punished for hurting her, but it didn't mean that one wouldn't be stupid enough to harm her anyway – his own child had taken that very risk. He could not ascertain why Pam had interfered, gone to his house to seek out Sookie, but her punishment would be great.

Eric admitted to himself that he could not handle Sookie as he had before if he did not want her to leave. With Sookie, it was clear to him why she had tried to escape – she was scared of him, fearing for her life and sanity. Humans had a saying, better the devil you know than the devil you don't. Eric did not like this particular idiom, but he realized for Sookie to choose the unknown over him, she must have been particularly desperate. In truth, he had seen her anxieties build during the past couple of weeks, she had seemed different to him, but he had ignored it – a foolish mistake – letting his inner beast feed off of her fright.

He peered down at his Sookie. He couldn't be a man, but it didn't mean he was a monster. He had to show her that he was more than her captor and that she was more to him than a mere hostage – worthy of small freedoms and his trust.

Instead of depositing her in her room, Eric carried Sookie down into his basement bedchamber, resting her carefully on his bed. Eric suspected she would sleep late after her long and stressful night, but in the event that she woke up before him, he penned a letter imploring her to stay until he rose, leaving it for her on the nightstand. He tucked her small body against his tall frame to discover that she fit perfectly, acutely aware that he has taking the biggest risk of his undead life.

As the sun took him to his death, he whispered a quick prayer to the gods of his human life asking that they grant Sookie the patience to wait for nightfall.


	11. Dreaming of Waves

**A/N: Thank you again for all the kind reviews!  
**

* * *

Sookie snuggled up against the form behind her, feeling safe for the first time in weeks. Unconsciously, she tried to roll a bit towards her stomach – her modesty insisting she not mash her butt directly into the other person's crotch as he cuddled her – but it caused her dislocated shoulder to drop just enough to register in her sleepy haze. Instinctively, her eyes flew open as she winced in pain, crying out softly, unintentionally scooting away from her bedmate.

"Shhhh," she heard very softly, as he gently helped her to lay on her back, settling his arm around her. The weight across her chest made movement impossible and the pain subsided, as Sookie slipped back to sleep, inhaling light smells of the ocean and the sea, finding herself in a lucid dream.

* * *

 _She can hear the waves crashing along the shore. The rumbling feels so distant, like the purr of a kitten – soft, menacing, ominous. She's aware that she might drown, but it won't be today. She lets it drift from her mind – everything ebbs and flows._

 _Gazing out into the horizon, she watches the waves dance and flit about the surface of the sea - it spits and curls. The dying sun crafts prisms and mirrors along the curves of the water – reflecting the beauty of the universe above. There is a fire and a calmness in it – it is stirring her up and quieting her down. She can feel it within her grasp and yet it's completely out of reach. It's haunting._

 _She meanders along the shore. Where the water nips at her heels. Still so cold after a day in the sun. Yet inviting and friendly. Crashing and slipping around her toes, it tugs – trying to persuade her to swim. She wants to – to give in – because she loves the water and she knows it loves her._

 _But the waves whisper in the distance. Buzzing like the wings of hummingbirds. Murmuring an unsettling reminder._

 _She turns her view inland. The light doesn't dance or hug the shapes of the objects she can't make out. The sun doesn't sneak past the shore. She's afraid of the dark. Instinctively, she steps into the sea. Inhaling sharply, she squints and shivers, still facing the mainland. Her body sinks onto the sand, into the shallow water; her clothes beginning to cling to her. Goose-pimply, she shakes and sways – straining to adjust, unwilling to crawl out of the surf. She knows she would feel better if she just dove in – let the sea envelop her. It's the hesitancy that keeps her cold and struggling._

 _She re-positions towards the sea, the water crawling up the fabric of her clothing and running down her arms. It feels… comforting. She can't tell if the temperature has shifted or if she has. She sits, and breathes deeply – there is sweet salt in the air. She is unmoved as the sun sinks below the line of the sea. The moon taking its place in the sky._

 _The water is even more beautiful now – as there are no distractions. She can see nothing but the sea in front of her. It sings to her – and she sings along._

 _"It may not last;_ _but I am not naïve – I am in love."_

* * *

'Love?'

Sookie's dream startled her awake. Trying to raise her arm to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she discovered she was pinned to the bed; she struggled a bit, wondering what was going on, unable to see in the pitch black room. Sookie could still smell the salt water air from the ocean, like her dream - the musky scent that reminded her of someone. "Eric, it's only Eric." She said out loud, surprising herself that his presence had somehow become comforting to her overnight; she felt soothed by the nearness to him, like something inside of her longed to be as close to him as possible. She laid next to him until she couldn't anymore - her human needs suddenly making their presence known. There was no time to wait - her body screaming at her, 'Bathroom now!'

"Eric," She said softly, "Eric," a little more loudly, "Eric!" feeling particularly frustrated, not understanding why he wouldn't wake, "ERIC!" she yelled as she poked at him, trying to wriggle out from under his arm. His arm was a dead weight, and she felt powerless against the man sleeping next to her. Why wouldn't he wake up? Shaking off her sleepy haze, her mind began to knit together the pieces. Remembering bits and flashes of what had happened.

'Vampires sleep during the day,' she chided herself, and then it hit her like a freight train, images from the night before came rushing back, flooding her mind.

Suddenly, she swore she could see Pam straddling her waist, holding her down, looking wild and feral, savagely biting her. Pam's fangs were ripping into her flesh, as her body screamed in pain, becoming weak. Undone by her hallucination, Sookie began to hyperventilate. Her wriggling turned to thrashing as her breaths became shorter. Her body launched into a full-blown panic attack, tears streaming down her cheeks as she rasped for breath. Her shouldered burned fiercely from wrenching it around. She wailed loudly, sure she was dying.

"Shhhhh." She heard whispered into her hair, as she hiccupped each sob, "Shhhh."

"Please... (hiccup)... let... (hiccup)... me... (hiccup)... go... (hiccup)."

"Shhhhhhh... You're safe. See?"

Sookie barely heard Eric's words over the distinct clap that echoed in the space. She came back to reality as the lamp next to her lit up. 'Why does a vampire have a clapper?' she thought. At the room's illumination, Eric pulled his arm back, freeing Sookie, who instantly jumped from the bed, backing up towards the wall. Still short of breath, she sank to the floor, her back against the wall, tucking her legs underneath her. She placed one hand on her chest and one on her stomach, rhythmically inhaling and exhaling, in an effort to calm herself down.

After a few minutes, once her breathing began to even out and her panic attack was over, her bladder reminded her why she had tried to get up in the first place. She padded into the bathroom, relieving herself before taking stock of her bloody clothes; she shed them and took a long, hot shower. Feeling renewed and revived, she wrapped herself in a terrycloth robe she found hanging on the back of the door before heading back towards the empty side of the bed.

On the nightstand, she spotted an envelope with her named penned in a beautiful script. She reached for it with her uninjured arm and sat down, leaning against the headboard, glancing over at the motionless man – vampire – beside her.

She brushed away a strand of his blonde hair that had fallen across his forehead, allowing her hand to graze his cheek. She felt the finest bit of stubble peppered across his strong chin, as she lightly traced her fingers down the line of his jaw. His skin felt so cold against hers, tiny shocks of electricity moving through her fingers at each touch. She continued to stroke her fingers down his arms, and across his bare chest. She dragged her nails softly over his pecs and down his sculptured abs, noting that he shivered ever so slightly – the only movement she had seen since he had removed his arm from across her breasts. She thought about dropping the robe and pressing her naked flesh against his, aware of the heat awakening between her legs. She started to pull back the sheet to roam further, touch him more.

But she stopped herself.

She felt ashamed that she had even entertained the thought of taking advantage of him in his vulnerable state. This thing he had done – bringing her into his chamber – was a sign of trust; she knew that and she wasn't going to betray him. But, the devil on her other shoulder reminded her that he had seen her naked. The proof was in the pudding – he had taken all her clothes off in the hotel and changed her in to HIS shirt. She wondered how bad it would be if she just took one quick look? Surely he wouldn't begrudge her the chance to level the playing field.

"Girlie! I'm not coming down there with the vampire; you'll have to come up!"

Sookie snapped her head towards the door, surprised to hear someone in the house. She felt certain the voice belonged to the doctor who had treated her the night before. She let out a little growl, dropping the sheet back over him, knowing she'd lost her opportunity and her nerve. Letter still in hand, she opened the door – discovering a well-lit staircase – closed it behind her, and ascended the stairs.

* * *

Sookie found the short doctor waiting for her with hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"We don't all keep vampire hours, Miss Stackhouse; some of us have jobs. Now, let's take a look at you; I need to see how much you've healed overnight. I'm also going to help you get that dislocated shoulder back in."

Doctor Ludwig poked and prodded, while Sookie followed each of the doctor's requests to turn this way or that.

"I'm going to need you to lay down on the couch and we'll get your shoulder set to rights. It won't take more than a minute; try not to pass out from the discomfort."

Sookie braced herself and the doctor was true to her word – it took no time, but it hurt like hell; she howled in pain as it relocated. Dr. Ludwig carefully checked Sookie's arm and handed her a bottle of an ibuprofen. Satisfied at her healing, the doctor pulled up a small stool and sat across from Sookie.

"There's something special about you. Did you know that?" Sookie flinched slightly at the doctor's words, "Yes, I think you did know that. Don't worry, doctor/patient confidentiality – your secret's safe with me," Sookie nodded to show she understood, "You really shouldn't be here…your kind isn't safe around vampires. Northman may be older and stronger than most, but if you keep feeding him your blood, he's likely to become addicted, and then you'll never get back to your kin."

"What are you talking about? He's never… bitten me."

"He doesn't feed from you? But he still gave you blood, to heal you. Odd…that's just odd." Ludwig muttered to herself. And with that the Doctor 'popped' out of the room.

* * *

Bewildered, Sookie descended the stairs, and remembering the letter in her hand, she opened it.

* * *

Min älskade,

I'm certain you do not recall, but we first met years ago, very late at night, while you were traveling home. You captured me, captivated me. I watched you from the shadows. And then… all this happened, and I did not trust you, hiding my true nature, causing this catastrophe. For that I apologize.

I have not earned your trust, but I am sure you have questions, and I would like to provide the answers you seek. I only ask one favor in exchange – do not leave the house, be with me when I rise. I cannot protect you when I am dead, but my resting chamber is the safest place in the world. I hope you will not choose to kill me in my sleep, as I never chose to kill you in yours. It is not a threat, merely a truth that you should consider.

Until sunset,

-E

* * *

Sookie's mind was swirling with a million questions; she felt almost paralyzed trying to decide what she would ask him first.

Eric rose not knowing what to expect, but feeling Sookie's body next to him on the bed, he was the happiest he had ever been. Her body was turned towards him, but her eyes were almost intentionally focused elsewhere, on a random spot in the room. Before he could greet her, thank her for heeding his note, she blurted out, "Do vampires have sex?"

Well he certainly hadn't expected that.


	12. FLASHBACK, Thunderstorms

**A/N: Flashback**

 ****A Couple of Years Before Chapter 1****

* * *

"I can't believe it. I just…you wouldn't…how could…why would you…"

"Sookie, honey, calm down. I know this is a lot to take in, but it doesn't change things. I'm still your Gran, you're still my Sookie."

"You cheated on Grandpa Earl!"

"Sookie, whoever I've taken into my bed is no concern of yours."

"Gran!"

"There's more I need to tell you my dear."

"No, I don't want to know; I'm not sure I can take any more surprises right now."

"Hush, I've got more to tell you and you need to put on your big girl pants and listen. There's no sense in pretending we don't have enemies, that our lives are safer than they truly are. Fintan protects us, shields us from his world, but that protection won't last forever. If you're going to survive, there's a lot you're going to need to know."

Sookie pulled out a chair at the small wooden kitchen table to take a seat. Something told her she would want to sit down to hear this news.

* * *

When Sookie arrived home the night before, she had almost convinced herself that she had hallucinated the series of events that took place. It was easier sometimes for her to chalk things up to being crazy. It was her default mode to revert to the "crazy Sookie" – having been diagnosed with schizophrenia as a child, a diagnosis that her Gran had spent years trying to undo the damage of. Gran had taught Sookie that the world was quick to equate "special" with "mentally unstable."

* * *

No one had wanted to even _entertain_ the idea that Sookie could be a telepathic child, stamping her paperwork with a label before the ink had dried on the doctors' findings when she was just 6 years old. She was the youngest case of schizophrenia on record, and everyone knew as soon as the label was applied. Bon Temps parents refused to let their children anywhere near the crazy Stackhouse child, acting as if it was a communicable disease, that she might infect other children. Sookie's parents had not shouldered the town's gossip in stride – in fact, they debated whether trying to raise a child with Sookie's mental disabilities was worth it at all. They considered casting their little girl aside and focusing their efforts on Jason – he could do them proud; he was such a popular and well-liked little boy.

Sookie lived in constant fear of being taken away – gleaning from her parents' heads their desire to institutionalize her – and desperately tried to act "normal," not fully understanding what she was doing wrong – didn't everyone hear voices? It caused all manner of confusion and frustration for Sookie – and at times, she couldn't control herself, resorting to violent temper tantrums, screaming and throwing things, insisting with tears streaming down her face that she was no liar – that she had heard the things she heard. Sookie's parents responded by upping her medications to extreme levels. At one time, she could barely do more than drool, as the drugs drowsied her and clouded her mind.

When Adele Stackhouse, Gran, found out that the Stackhouses were plying her granddaughter with anti-psychotics, she had minced no words admonishing them for their negligence in handling a "special" child, for refusing to look for a second doctor's opinion. Gran offered to take Sookie then, but Michelle, Sookie's mother, took offense, insisting that she was not a bad mother, promising her mother-in-law that she would do right by Sookie – drop the dosage and instill normality into her daughter's life. Gran did not trust Michelle, calling child services in an attempt to remove Sookie from their care and gain custody. She had even enlisted the aid of a powerful lawyer, Desmond Cataliades, to file custody motions with the court. But every time a caseworker scheduled a visit to the Stackhouse residence, all they would see was how Michelle doted on and cared for Sookie, despite her mental illness.

It was a show that took place for over a year.

Whenever a social worker wasn't present, Michelle locked Sookie in her room, trapping her for days on end, leaving meals inside the doorjamb before Sookie woke in hopes of avoiding her daughter altogether. At first, Sookie had banged and screamed at the door that she didn't understand, but eventually Sookie had become silent – and her mother believed the solitude did her some good, made her stronger. On some level, Sookie's mother suspected that her child was a telepath – because the things Sookie said were in truth the things she had been thinking – but she was scared of having a daughter that she could not keep secrets from, like the fact she was cheating on her husband. Corbett, Sookie's father, was always a little too imbibed on the grain to care what Michelle did – plus he had a son to focus on, a son who he was grooming to be a football god. Corbett believed that sons were a father's problem, and daughters a mother's. He also could not understand why his mom cared so much about what happened with his troubled child.

On the night of the Stackhouse parents' death, Michelle had reached her wits end. Sookie had told her mother that Uncle Barlett had been touching her in her "special place" and that if she had to see him again, she would stop playing nice, that she would tell her dad and the social worker everything she knew. Michelle was taken aback by her daughter's accusation and her threat; everything was falling apart. She moved quickly, convincing Corbett that Sookie's life would be best if she became a permanent ward of the state. It would undo all of her mistakes, as far as she was concerned –and if Adele still wanted custody, she could fight the state for it.

* * *

Drugging Sookie with sleep medication, Michelle loaded her 7-year old daughter into the car, belongings in tow. She patted her husband on the arm as she reassured him that this was the only thing they could do for Sookie, for the family – reminding him they had tried to "handle" her as her mother-in-law had suggested, that his mother was in no better shape to care for a mentally deficient child. Corbett was easily swayed after a couple of beers, slipping behind the wheel to drive their daughter to her new life.

Rain began to fall as they drove hand in hand to the mental institution in Shreveport. Neither Stackhouse would admit out loud that they had no intention of ever visiting Sookie – that they were abandoning her in every sense of the word. The rain began to fall faster, beating on the windshield of the car. Corbett ripped his hand from Michelle's to steady the wheel as their worn tires failed to grip the sloshy road. He turned the wipers to their maximum speed, discovering they did little to increase his line of sight in the torrential downpour. Slowing his speed, he kept the course, Michelle babbling in the passenger's seat about how they were doing the right thing, protecting their family the best way they knew how.

As the thunderstorm became more intense, the car became almost uncontrollable, hydroplaning across the lanes with every gush of wind. Corbett suggested that they stop – take the bad weather as an omen – but Michelle insisted that they keep going; she had already decided that come rain, hell, or high water Sookie was not going to spend one more moment in their house. Michelle was no longer willing to tolerate the little troublemaker drugged in the backseat; she had made her choice.

As the wheels lost traction, veering the car off of a small bridge and into the water, Michelle Stackhouse cursed at her sleeping daughter – this was all her fault; if not for Sookie's illness, they would have never had cause to make the drive. As the car sank slowly into the water, both Stackhouses had fought frantically to free themselves from the vehicle giving little thought to saving their own daughter. They were ultimately unsuccessful, drowning in the cold river water, unable to break free.

Sookie, however, had been extracted from the car by an unknown force, taken back to her home, and placed gently on the bed in her room; her belongings returned to the closet. She woke the next morning to her brother shaking her awake, telling her that their parents had died in a late-night drunk driving accident. No one – not the police, Gran, or even Fintan – ever knew the truth of what had happened that night.

It wasn't long after, with the help of her lawyer, that Gran had become the caretaker of Sookie and her brother Jason, working quickly to address all of the traumas that Sookie had experienced in her young life, helping her to understand her gift.

* * *

Sookie steeled herself for her Gran's next admission.

"You remember the man I brought over, to help you with your telepathy?"

"Mr. Cataliades. He was your lawyer, right?"

"Yes, that's right. He helped me to get custody of you and Jason after your parents died, and he is a telepath, like you."

"That's how he was able to help. I don't understand Gran; where are you going with this?"

Gran sighed deeply, aware that she was about to shatter her granddaughter's perceptions about the world. She had wanted to shield Sookie from this, from the other world that had haunted her doorstep for years. Fintan had always done so well to keep it at bay, but he had informed her, before Sookie woke up, that he had to some extent failed, that Sookie would need to know at least enough to keep herself protected from his family.

"Desmond, Mr. Cataliades, he's the one who gave you your gift, at Fintan's behest. They both agreed it would be best."

Sookie sat motionless; she didn't even know what to say. But her thoughts were moving at a mile a minute. Fintan had mentioned some other gift – her curse, did he mean her curse? She waited patiently while her grandmother continued.

"Fintan, your grandfather by blood, is a fairy."

"Like Tinkerbell?"

"Not exactly, dear."

"Gran, you've got to understand how crazy this all sounds. You're telling me that you cheated on your husband with a fairy, and that because of that I was cursed to hear people's inner thoughts?"

"Don't call it a curse! You know how I feel about that. But, yes, to an extent; although there's more to it," She paused momentarily, "Your telepathy isn't a fairy thing; it's a demonic trait. I…drank demon blood, Desmond's blood. It affected you because you have what's called the fairy spark. No one else in our family has it – except for Fintan, of course."

"What the hell does that mean?" Sookie slapped her own hand over her mouth; she couldn't believe she had just said "hell" in front of her Gran. Gran ignored it; she understood how overwhelmed Sookie must have felt in that moment – she had used her own share of expletives the night Fintan had explained his world to her.

"It means you have magic, baby girl. It probably won't manifest for a couple more years. From what Fintan's told me fairies usually get their powers around twenty-five years of age."

"So I'm a fairy with demon telepathy and in a couple of years I'm going to have magic?" Sookie shook her head, "Gran, you…just…this…it's all too much."

"I know honey. And I'm sorry I never told you before this. It's not a secret I wanted to keep from you."

"What else then Gran? What else is there? I've got to know, just tell me everything – I'll sort it all out later."

"Nothing else that I'm aware of. There are fairies and demons. I swear to you Fintan's never told me about anything else."

"So Witches? Vampires? Werewolves? All those things are just bunk?"

"Sookie, I promise you that as far as I know those things are just creatures in children's fairytales...There's still more I need to tell you."

"More?!"

"Yes, more. About the gift Fintan gave you last night."

Sookie ran her thumb across the item in her hand. She felt drawn to it – now she understood it contained magic, fairy magic. It explained the electricity she felt when she touched it.

"Fintan and I made it. From what he told me, it's a love token of sorts. I don't know what it does, but he said it's precious and that he would give it to you one day. And that on that day, I should explain how it was made. Years ago, Fintan tied his life to mine to cloak our family, to keep us away from _his_ family, creating the gift you hold in your hand. His family…won't like us. They're our enemies Sookie. You need to know that once I die, Fintan will also die and that item will be the only thing that will keep you safe. You can't ever tell a living soul what I've told you, including Jason. No one can know of your lineage – that you're part fairy; it's imperative to your survival."

"Okay, Gran, I'll keep pretending I'm normal."


	13. Sun Showers and Lightning

"If you're offering Miss Stackhouse, I'd be more than happy to show you."

Eric said, waggling his eyebrows at Sookie as she turned to face him; she couldn't believe she'd actually asked him if vampires have sex. A deep blush bloomed in Sookie's cheeks and spread down her décolletage, and Eric found himself wondering how much further south it traveled. He allowed his eyes to linger a bit on the exposed flesh of her chest. Sookie suddenly became extremely aware of the fact she was practically naked in front of him – having never changed out of the robe she had donned after showering.

"No, I mean…" She stammered, flustered by her own question. Despite all that had happened with Eric, she couldn't deny her body's attraction to him, and she was sure he could tell just how much he affected her as moisture began to pool between her legs. "That's not what I meant…"

"Miss Stackhouse, I have been around a great number of years and there's not a lot of room for interpretation in your question." He said with an eyebrow raised, smirking a bit at her innocence. He stamped down the part of him which found her behavior cute – vampires did not use words like "cute."

"No... ummm… I dunno how to ask… I just was wondering…if, uh…you all can make babies with humans, like part-vampire babies."

Again, she was a veritable fountain of surprises – easily the least predictable human Eric had ever met. He wondered what her purpose was in asking if vampires could impregnate humans. How she could even think that vampires might be capable of reproducing life – when their very nature was to do quite the opposite – was puzzling to him. Was she afraid that if she gave herself to him she might bear his child? Or was she hoping to have little Viking vampire babies?

"No, the union of our bodies will never produce a child."

Sookie's blush turned from a light pink to a fiery red, and Eric felt certain that it indeed did cover the expanse of her body – dispirited that he could not verify it for himself. Eric felt a tinge of relief and disappointment ring across the blood tie that gave him a hardline to her emotions; he really did not understand this human woman.

"Whoa there! Not… no… I just…" She hung her head in embarrassment, using her hands to hide her face.

She hadn't expected him to interpret it that way – she was hoping to find out if there were other halfings, like her, in his world. It wasn't as if she could've asked him straight out like "Hey, I know fairies mate with humans and make babies, what about vampires? Is it the same?" It was unsafe to reveal her heritage, to let him know that she had already known that humans weren't the only creatures to walk this plane – heck, that she was one of them.

"Sookie…" He purred at her, "Look at me."

She continued to avoid his gaze, but dropped her hands into her lap.

Eric reached over and gently hooked his finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, and he found himself falling into them. He did not like the feelings she stirred in him, but he could not deny their presence. He worried if she would ever be able to feel for him as he did for her after all that had gone wrong between them.

"Little one, surely you have more questions you'd like to ask me."

'Hundreds,' she thought to herself, and then out loud, "And you'll answer them all? Like you said in your note?"

"My world is shrouded in secrecy, but I will tell you what I can so long as it doesn't violate the rules of my society – although allowing your continued existence is an infringement in itself."

"You... You should have… killed me?" Sookie's voice shook as it got softer and softer, her last words passing her lips as whispers.

"Yes," he said, suddenly not liking that he had promised to tell her truths, "You are a risk, knowing what we are, that we exist at all. Vampires have survived thousands and thousands of years because we have closely guarded the truth of our nature. When humans discover us, they are glamoured or culled."

"Oh, that makes sense. I can understand that," Sookie responded, remembering how Gran had told her she had to guard the secret of her fairy lineage at all costs. Eric noted that she accepted his explanation better than he would have expected.

"What's glamour?"

"Glamour is a special gift that all vampires have. It allows us to control humans and plant or remove memories from their minds as needed – it's sort of like what your human magicians do when they hypnotize someone."

"Oh God! That's awful! Taking someone's free will from them, you've done that? Have you ever done that to me?"

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes; what if he had been using her as some sort of puppet this whole time? It was the most upsetting and unsettling thing she could imagine, remembering momentarily the abuse she suffered at the hands of her great uncle Bartlett. But a lingering thought nagged at her – why, if Eric could control her, wouldn't he have used it to stop her from trying to escape? He felt her turmoil swirling in their bond and answered quickly, wanting to soothe her anxieties.

"You cannot be glamoured."

"You've tried!?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever met someone who couldn't be glamoured?"

"No."

"Oh," Sookie paused, wondering if maybe fairies were immune to glamour and whether or not vampires even knew fairies existed; surely if fairies knew about vampires, Gran would have told her. She also recalled that he hadn't exactly said he wasn't going to "cull" her to eliminate the threat she posed to his society.

"Are you planning to kill me?"

"Of course not."

"Even though you should...?"

"Yes, I should. But I won't. EVER. I trust you, to keep my secret safe. And if you'll allow me, I will in turn keep you safe from the vampire who had you kidnapped, the one I saved you from."

'That's why his mind was blank!' The _eureka_ moment hitting Sookie like a freight train – vampire minds were blank to her. Her brain took a quick inventory of every void she'd encountered; there was Eric and Pam, of course, the man – vampire – from the warehouse, and then that drunk guy a couple of years ago she met the night her car's battery had died. Eric! That's why Eric's note had said they met awhile ago – because they had! That was like two years ago; had he been stalking her for two years? Why?

"What do you want from me?"

Sookie didn't know vampiric nature but she was well aware that fairies could be cunning and devious, selfish – like Fintan's family; they didn't do anything for out of the goodness of their heart. Were vampires better than fairies - than humans? Maybe not everyone had an ulterior motive, but Sookie's telepathy had told her that most people did. And maybe males vampires were different from human men, but usually men at Merlotte's seemed to want sex, or at least a blowjob, in exchange for doing a woman a favor – a price she was unwilling to pay.

"Everything."

Eric said it so quietly that he was sure that Sookie could not hear what he had said, and then at an audible volume, "Use of your gift."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either. How could he explain, without scaring her, that he was obsessed with her? That he couldn't imagine the world without her in it? That, if he really had to admit it to himself, he felt for her something others might identify as love? No, he thought, it would be better if she believed her found her useful, wanted something from her.

Sookie scooted away from him, feeling exposed, pulling her terrycloth robe closer to her body, as if that would somehow rebury whatever secret he had managed to learn. She steeled her face, her body frozen, trying to appear impassive – she couldn't belie her "I'm just a waitress from Bon Temps" act.

"I don't have any gifts – I'm just a waitress!" She said in the bubbliest tone she could muster, her "Crazy Sookie" smile plastered over her face.

Eric closed the space between them, pulling her hands into his, looking deeply into her eyes, "No, little one, you are much more... to me," the last two words too quiet to register to human ears.

"No!" She said ripping her hands from his, and then softly, "I'm not."

"You are!" He insisted.

"I'M NOT!" She screamed back at him, hoping he would miss the panic in her voice.

"All I ask is for a modicum of trust and you deny me! You infuriating woman!" He couldn't believe how she could make his blood sing or boil with a single breath. Her fear became palpable and he chastised himself, hating his nature for the first time in his existence. How could he repair this damage, the rift he had drawn between them?

Sookie could not stop herself from trembling in fear. Two years, she remembered Eric had said he watched her for two years. Of course he had figured out she could read minds! He probably knew everything about her – well hopefully not everything – but she wasn't exactly good at hiding her telepathy. Even after 22 years of practice, she still responded all too often to people's unspoken thoughts - he must have seen it. 'That's how he knows,' she thought.

As she looked over at him - hoping that just once she would be able to read _his_ mind, confirm her theory - she spied a line of blood dripping down his cheek.

"Eric!" She exclaimed, "OH MY GOD! You're bleeding! Are you okay?" Suddenly she wasn't so much scared of him, as she was scared for him, reaching for his hand – but he moved it before she had the chance to grab it.

He wiped at the blood with the back of his hand, smearing it.

"I have scared you again… I am sorry... I was trying not to scare you. I'm… overwhelmed by you. It is not an excuse. I… they are tears." He sputtered out, realizing he had not answered her question. Then, he swiftly donned his mask of indifference, ashamed she had seen him cry.

"I am not this sniveling thing you see before you. I am a fucking vampire – a Sheriff! I rule my Area with an iron fist," Growling his words as he smashed said fist through one of the ornately carved posters at the foot on his bed, splinters breaking off and piercing his flesh.

She saw clearly that he was mad at himself, and this time his outburst did not frighten her at all. Instead, Sookie watched, mesmerized, as the splinters slipped back out of his hand and onto the floor as his skin healed before her very eyes. Her interest had piqued initially at mention of some sort of hierarchy, order to his world, but it took a backseat to her latest revelation.

"You healed me with your blood," She mumbled faintly, "Your blood is magic..." She had already learned from Fintan, after her talk with Gran, that all magic comes with a price. "What did it cost?"

Eric crooked an eyebrow up at her question; though he understood her meaning, her word choice was notably odd.

"It _cost_ you some privacy," He paused to gauge her reaction, but surprising him once again, she simply nodded for him to continue, "You have me inside you, my blood at least," Waggling his eyebrows once more – a gesture which was met with an eye roll, "I can feel you; where you are, what you are feeling. It enhances your feelings for me – you may have dreamed of me, lusted for me."

"It makes me like you." It was not a question, but a statement.

"No, min älskade. It does not control what you feel, as you suggest, although it may help you to like me more, to accept the monster inside me."

"You are not a monster."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"You must know that, at times, you do scare me, terrify me in fact. But, more often, you intrigue me, excite me; like right now, I want to wipe the bloody tears from your face and pepper you with kisses until you fall apart at my feet."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"Since the moment we met, you lied to me... You pretended to be human... You saved me, healed me – I know that now – and then you snatched me from my house, held me hostage – denied me the sun. You! You are the reason that woman, that vampire, attacked me!"

She closed her eyes, the pain of Pam's bite once again burning in her throat. Tears threatened to burst forth, and she took deep breaths, willing her nerves to steady – now was not the time to cry. Pam was not attacking her, she was safe. Eric was here; he would protect her.

"...And then you saved me – again; healed me – again, brought me into your room, even cuddled with me! You even calmed me in my hysteria, somehow you woke up even though you seemed dead. You... You make me feel secure, and... maybe loved. I think I did dream about you... and I think I finally know what it meant."

She tucked her hand into the sleeve of her robe, using the cuff to wipe some of his blood from his cheek. Eric leaned into her touch, enjoying the smell of her skin. It was an intimate moment between them, and they both relished it.

"That doctor? Ludwig? She was surprised you haven't taken my blood. She said I needed to get away from you because you will hurt me."

Sookie noticed that Eric flinched slightly, an involuntary loss of control belying his otherwise motionless stance.

"But you won't hurt me, will you? You could have, but you didn't. I mean, you have a little – your grip's a little tight," Another flinch, "But Mister Sheriff Vampire – let's be honest, you may be a little stronger than you realize. Your bed never even stood a chance against your iron fist."

She smiled at bit at her own little joke, but she wasn't teasing him, not really. He was a big ol' faker, just like she was – pretending to be only half of herself, putting on a show. He was deep, he could feel – there was love in him. She could see it plainly in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it, didn't want to feel it because he was supposed to be some bad-ass vampire, emotionless.

He tried once again, unsuccessfully, to speak. This time she silenced him by leaning towards him and pressing her soft lips onto his, for just a few seconds, shocking the stoic vampire sitting beside her.

"Thank you, for saving my life… I may be crazy – I am crazy – but it's not just the blood, is it? That makes me want to trust you? Believe you?"

"No it's not just the blood. You know you have feelings for me, as I do for you. You have my deepest regrets for giving you every reason to doubt me."

"I forgive you, I really do... but that doesn't mean you're getting off easy; you've got a lot to make up for Mister Sheriff Vampire!"

He doubled over, laughing, "Understood, min älskade. Understood."

A smile crept across both of their faces as they stared in each other's eyes. Sookie broke first, wanting to show him she trusted him, that she could try to move past the last couple of weeks, chalk it up to one big misunderstanding.

"Oh, and I agree to your offer – in exchange for your protection, I'll let you use me."

"Why, Miss Stackhouse, how forward you are," he purred, licking his lips before lunging at her, playfully pinning her to the bed.

"Oh hell! Not my body, Eric; my gift! You keep me out of the clutches of the vampire who wants me and I'll read people's minds for you."

'What the fuck,' Eric thought to himself, 'She's a telepath?!'


	14. Turning of the Tides

**A/N: Rated M for a reason.**

* * *

Sookie was puzzled as Eric paused for a moment, as if the gears were turning in his head. Still pinned to the bed, underneath him, she lay there awkwardly, waiting for him to snap out of his haze. Finally she broke the silence.

"Eric?"

Eric's frame hovered over Sookie's as he contemplated how to handle her inadvertent admission that she was a telepath; he could tell that she thought she was telling him something he already knew. And he racked his brain not only for his next course of action, but to try to figure out how he had missed such a fucking big detail about the woman below him. There was not one part of him that was excited by this newest revelation – it would making her a walking target, not only in his world, but even in her own. He couldn't believe she would take such a risk – telling him without confirming what "gift" he had been referring to, but hadn't he also taken a large risk? Bringing her to lay with him in his basement, during his day death. It seemed they both were willing to take leaps of faith.

He chastised himself that he wasn't clearer with her, that he had unintentionally goaded this secret from her. She had tensed instantly at his use of the word "gift" and he knew it had been a mistake to ask for her body in such a way. He had hoped to come off as reverential, thinking she would question his meaning, at which time he could profess how he longed to worship her body, make her his in every sense of the word. But instead, they had begun an argument. Gods, how happy he was when she said he could "use her" – thinking about what a cheeky little minx she was, offering her virginity in exchange for protection she had to know he was eager to give – why else would he have done everything he had already done?

"Eric?" She said again, a look of concern flashing in her bright blue eyes.

He could sense that she was becoming uneasy, and he had precious few moments to decide on a definitive course of action, a response to her offer. He knew his answer – no, he did not want her to read minds for him – but he was playing a game of mental chess, trying to determine how he could maneuver her into the shadows, out of the limelight of his world. Pets, humans attached to vampires, had to be registered – to solidify the vampire's claim – and any peculiarities were to be noted in the paperwork. A practical process that Eric now found slightly distasteful. He had never had a pet before, in his whole existence – never understanding the appeal of keeping a human when there was a whole world full of humans to fuck and feed from. It had seemed a little like monogamy to him, for a vampire to keep a pet, and he couldn't understand that sort of compulsion. But then again, he had never the things he felt for Sookie for any other creature; it all made much more sense now.

"I've changed my mind," he whispered, burying his face into the crook of her neck, peppering it with kisses, "Your gift could never bring me as much pleasure as the warmth of your body."

'Yes,' he thought, 'best not to alarm her,' knowing that if he pointed out her error in judgment by telling him of her telepathy that she was apt to experience emotions he did not want her to feel.

She shivered at the coolness of his lips pressed onto her flesh, a small moan escaping her lips; becoming aware, once again, that the robe she wore was a flimsy barrier between their bodies. As he had never dressed – because she had been waiting for him to rise at the sunset to talk – his body was practically naked with only a thin layer of silk boxers in the way of sexual exploration. Still pinned underneath him on the bed, Sookie could feel his excitement rising as his length pressed against her thigh.

"Sookie…" He purred into her hair, still nuzzled against her neck, his voice dripping with sex, "Yield to me, become mine."

She flinched slightly, feeling more overwhelmed and insecure than unwilling. Unsure of his age, a topic they had not discussed, she was still certain he was not a novice when it came to the sexual arts. How could she compare to his past lovers? Her virginity suddenly felt like the elephant in the room.

"You are perfect; you and I can please each other greatly. Do not worry, min älskare." He said, as if he had read her mind; she remembered what he had said about the blood – that he could feel her emotions.

"Eric? What does that mean? Min äl-ska-re…" Her pronunciation unintentionally butchering the beautiful words, how they sounded as they came from him.

"My lover." He said, drawing out the word lover in a way that caused the heat between her legs to increase, her arousal rising.

"Oh… Eric, I… You… I don't know…" Her eyes casting downward, a blush creeping up her décolletage in splotches.

"It will be new for me too; we will explore together. I have never… made love before," He whispered, letting 'love' spill from his lips as easily as she had ignited it in his undead heart, "It will be a… first for both of us."

"Yes," She said, releasing a breath she had not realized she was holding.

It was all he needed to hear before he claimed her mouth with his, passionately kissing her, his tongue lightly licking her soft lips seeking entrance. She submitted to his entreaty quickly, entwining her tongue with his. He lowered his body beside her, turning her onto her hip, so that his hands could explore the curves of her body. She felt on fire; each caress sending pleasurable bolts of energy throughout her body.

She pulled back, untying the knot holding the terry cloth robe around her form. His eyes burned with a passion that excited her – he looked at her in wonderment; his eyes never leaving hers. She hesitated, questioning her decision momentarily. He gave her a reassuring smile, but scooted away from her – believing she had changed her mind. It was all she needed to steel her resolve.

She opened her robe, dropping it down at her sides, sitting naked before him.

He had seen her before, in the motel as he disrobed her, seeking to make her sleep comfortable, but nothing compared to watching her remove her clothing in front of him, exposing her voluptuous body before him. His hardness twitched, impatient to bury itself into her tight, wet heat. He allowed himself a moment to take her in, noting the curve of her slightly tanned hips, traveling his eyes upwards to her rounded, pert breasts. His hands wandered, almost of their own volition, trailing up her stomach to cup her breasts – softly grazing his thumbs over her nipples, which responded instantly to his touch.

She gasped slightly, pushing her breasts into his hands, urging him on. She pulled his body into hers, resting his leg between hers, gyrating against his thigh in an attempt to satisfy the carnal needs of her body, succumbing to the lust coursing through her. He tilted his head downwards to suck at her nipples, eliciting a deep moan, which spurred him on. Reaching down to grasp his length, Sookie was shocked – he was huge! Fear trickled through her as she worried that her first time would hurt too much to find it enjoyable.

"I will prepare your body; you will never be unsatisfied."

She smiled, liking that this tie between them helped to diffuse what could otherwise be an awkward conversation. She continued her ministrations, as he growled in appreciation to her efforts. She gasped as he breached her warmth with his fingers, breaking her maidenhood gently so that her pain would be minimized. Removing his fingers, she watched as he rose from her slightly to nick the tip of his finger, drawing blood, before placing his bloodied digit back inside, rubbing his blood into her, abating the unease she had felt at his initial entry. He twirled his fingers until he found her special spot, paying it special attention until she shrieked his name, coming undone in his arms. The way she had said his name, it was heavenly to him; he could swear his undead heart had skipped a beat. Feeling his own orgasm growing, he gently removed her hand and positioned his length at her entrance.

He sought her eyes, asking once again for permission, for the gift of her virginity.

She pulled herself up, seeking his mouth, and curled her tongue around one of his fangs – he couldn't even remembered when they had extended – and he understood her intent. She was accepting him – all of him. As he pushed into her, he felt a completeness he had never felt in his entire undead life, letting sounds escape him that he had never made.

Their lovemaking was slow, but uninhibited; their bodies joined in exquisite ecstasty. His skin ached for constant contact with hers as hers ached for his, each plying the other with feverish kisses – nipping and licking at each other's necks. She met his thrusts with the bucking of her own hips, eager to feel him as deeply as possible, sweat glistening off her body. He felt his control slipping, desperate to bite her.

As if she had heard his wants, she tilted her head, offering him her neck in submission. He did not have the willpower to ask twice, sliding his fangs into her tender flesh, letting her blood burst forth into his mouth. Her blood was ambrosia, and he never wanted to stop drinking. She groaned in pleasure, reaching forward and biting him hard on his shoulder, drawing his blood, sucking greedily at the wound she had created. A bond exploded within them, giving each a hardline into the other's very soul. Their passions combined overwhelmed them as each pulled back, screaming each other's names was they came undone together, overtaken by earth-shattering orgasms.

"That was…mmmmmm…I love you," she said breathlessly before slipping into a deep sleep; her release combined with the late hour making it impossible for her to stay awake one moment longer.

"I love you too," he echoed back as he slipped out from her and rose from the bed. He tucked his arms under her to situate her in what would now forever be her side of the bed, pulling up the sheet to cover her naked flesh. Tucking her in, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you."

And he meant it to be for everything – trusting him, loving him, existing at all.

* * *

While he longed to climb in bed beside her, he knew he must deal not only with his child's indiscretion – her attack on his lover – but with Sookie's protection, her registry being the foremost thought on his mind. He would never betray her trust, tell others of her gift, but even his interest in her would draw attention. He now finally understood, to an extent, Pam's concern over his behavior. He _had_ put Pam and himself at risk – but also Sookie. He was envied; other vampires wanted what he wanted. They saw him as a role model, and also as a threat.

He had never taken a pet; how would it look that he had finally found a human who he deemed worthy of the distinction? He hated to think of Sookie as a pet – she was a companion, an equal – but that title would carry infinitely more risk for her. No, 'pet' would have to be the recorded title, even if it was far from her place in his life.

* * *

He flew to his house with Pam, where he felt her presence, slightly surprised she had not chosen a safehouse to spend the night in. He found her lounging in the sitting room, waiting for him.

"If you ever loved me at all, you'll do it quickly – my affairs are in order."

"No, you could not control yourself – I see that now."

She sniffed at him, noting his scent was mixed with that of the Stackhouse girl.

"She submitted to you then, accepted you?"

"We have accepted each other." He replied, smiling.

"Your happiness, I can feel it; it's…"

"Yes. She is mine."

"Understood, Master. I apologize for tasting your pet."

"COMPANION," he roared, "Never think of her as less. She will be your Mistress."

Pam was not visibly shaken, but inwardly she flinched, hating that she had incurred her maker's ire. She had never meant to insult his human, the woman he obviously loved.

"She is my bonded."

Pam's eyes widened, afraid not only for her master, but for his human – he may as well have placed a target on her back, bonding to her, making her his. He was Sheriff of Area Five, and he had never taken a human companion – let alone a pet. Perhaps it was Sookie's ploy, tricking Pam by pretending to be sexually interested in her and besting her, but Pam found herself respecting the Stackhouse girl; she worried what sort of trouble Eric would attract by registering her, especially as a companion, a bonded.

"You can't register her." Pam blurted out.

"No, not safely. It will attract attention. And, as your maker I command you not to repeat my next admittance, she is a telepath. Pam, she won't survive if she is registered as an asset."

"Eric, why tell me? Why betray her trust?"

Eric realized, from the emotions he received in his maker-child bond and from Pam's reactions, that Pam held Sookie in a different regard then she had prior to the incident, to Pam's attack on Sookie. There was respect and worry traveling across the cords of their tie. He liked it very much; it resolved him to his previous decision regarding Pam's punishment for attacking Sookie.

"You must know what she is, to protect her," He took an unnecessary inhalation, "Because you must register her as your pet. You have had pets before. It will not attract the attention it would attract if she was officially mine. You have had her blood, no one will question your ownership. As your maker, no one would question her blood in me, your propensity to share your pet with me. It is the easiest way to ensure Sookie's continued existence."

"Yes, I agree, but why tell me she can read minds?"

"Because she told me by accident – I cannot be sure who else is aware of her gift. You must know so that you can lie and glamour when the need arises, so that you can protect yourself as well."

"Does this mean we will share her?" Pam said, knowing his answer was no, but needing to hear it from her maker's own mouth.

"Never. She is only mine. Forever, and always."

"You love her."

"Yes, as I love you."

"Will she become my sister?" Pam asked, worried to a degree that she would have competition for her maker's affections, jealous.

"You will always be my child. It is a different love I have for Sookie. My love for you is not at risk." He replied, answering the question she had not asked. He cupped Pam's cheek, bidding her to catch his eyes, see his sincerity despite the fact she could feel it in their bond.

"It is not a punishment, but a privilege to protect your bonded by registering her as my pet."

"Yes, but we will call it your punishment, so that you know you are forgiven in my eyes."

"Will you tell her?"

"No, I fear that is something she will never understand about our world. She is headstrong; she will not appreciate being trivialized, called a 'pet'"

"She loves you?"

"Yes, she said it to me," He said, expelling the words as if they were a sacred utterance.

"Then I can find a way to love her too."


	15. FLASHBACK, Ebbs and Flows

**A/N: FLASHBACK**

 *****Before Chapter 1*****

* * *

"Sam Merlotte!" Sookie said playfully, swatting her boss on the arm, pretending she had taken offense at his words.

"Well, it's true; you've gotta know that you'd have suitors out the door if you gave anyone the time of day – men would be lined up for miles."

'Like you,' Sookie thought to herself, flinching as an unwanted memory flashed in her mind before donning her "Crazy Sookie" smile – the smile she wore to keep her face from betraying her feelings.

"Shug, break out of your rut and live a little! The world's out there, just waitin' to wow a beautiful girl like you." Lafayette chimed in, leaning over the order counter to participate in the conversation.

"Hush now, y'all are gonna make me blush!"

As if she wasn't already, Sookie reddened more, a bit embarrassed to be discussing her lack-of-a-love life with her boss and coworker.

"Truth's truth, cher." Sam remarked, Lafayette following up with a, "Hear! Hear!"

"Oh, you guys. You're just too silly sometimes," Sookie said smiling brightly, turning on her heel to deliver food to one of her many waiting tables.

* * *

Sam Merlotte looked after Sookie longingly as she walked away from him. He was her boss, but he had always hoped to be more, to catch her fancy. He knew Sookie was special – not because she was a telepath – but because she had a kind heart. He expected that she would not be… accepting of his two-naturedness and he chose to covet his own secret despite her own divulgence of hers.

Sam was a supernatural creature, a shifter, able to take the form of any animal – though he often preferred to shift into a border collie who Sookie had named "Dean." He spent most of his time in human-form – not needing to shift; he wasn't a werewolf or anything, beholden to the moon and such – but he enjoyed the thrill of becoming something else, even if only for a short while. Plus, Sookie really favored Dean, and Sam fleetingly thought he should buy Sookie a dog to curry her affections. But, he realized he much preferred being her dog, getting belly rubs from the woman who he longed to share his life with.

He didn't dare tell her why his thoughts were hazy to her – something she had confided she had noticed about him – because he was glad she didn't have a clear read on him. How could he ever tell her that he was Dean? He imagined that his foray as her somewhat pet would be… too creepy and off-putting for her to accept. And he agreed that it was in fact creepy, letting her dote on his animal form, but he just couldn't control how much he wanted her to touch him. Watching her float about his bar and grill in a tight t-shirt and teeny-tiny shorts was torture for him. He had spent many too many nights fantasizing what it would be like to have Sookie Stackhouse's taut body pressed up against his. Often, he pictured her in his bed, as he fucked other women – sometimes even calling out 'Sookie' as he climaxed.

He wanted her in every sense of the word, and she hadn't even considered giving him the time of day.

* * *

Sookie knew that Sam had feelings for her. She didn't have to be a mind-reader to see that, but her telepathy had allowed her to glean from others around them that it was more than that – Sam was kind of a creeper.

She always wondered if he truly believed she could read people's minds because he definitely made decisions as if he did not. For instance, he once had the less than brilliant idea to parade one of his conquests around his bar, introducing her individually to each member of his staff. Somehow Sam Merlotte was too dumb to realize that once his bedmate met the infamous "Sookie", her thoughts had gone straight to memories of Sam hovering above her, calling her a rather unusual name as he shuddered his release.

Sookie left sick that day, after puking up her lunch in the bathroom.

The next time Sookie saw Sam walk in with a lady on his arm, she sprinted from the room, not wanting to be reminded of Sam's sexual proclivities. Sam seemed to interpret her hasty flight as some sort of victory, and Sookie wondered if he actually thought she was jealous when, in reality, it had been a disturbing experience. She really hated when her telepathy picked up images and memories – especially since most of the time they were sexual in nature. Sometimes she wished she could rub Purell over her brain and burn away some of the thoughts she had been subjected to in the last 22 years – it would definitely make it easier to look some people in the face.

But that was impossible; so instead she soldiered on.

She really needed this job, and Sam really had been a good friend to her – always above board in his actions, acting like a dutiful boy scout. She struggled to reconcile the man who had also been her devoted friend with what she had plucked from that woman's mind. She had to laugh a little; if not for his foolish decision to try to her make her jealous, she could've seen herself maybe dating Sam at some point. She had even given thought to becoming physical with him because of the hazy silence of his mind. It had been comforting to her, thinking he didn't constantly picture her naked, that he didn't just want to use her body – like the other Bon Temps men did. But obviously, she had been wrong, and she was reminded that she couldn't rely on her telepathy to tell her the character of a person.

* * *

"Cher, your brother's asking for you." Sam said, locating Sookie in the back office digging for something in her purse.

"Jason's here? Did he say what he wants?"

Sam shrugged along with his response.

"I don't know, cher. But I could smell the booze on him. You want me to come with?"

"Nah, thanks though. I think I can handle Jase."

'Payday', Sookie thought, 'Jason's here because it's payday.'

God, she was tired of this dance; how many times did she have to tell him no? She walked back out onto the floor ready to refuse – for what had to be the hundredth time – to hand over her hard-earned monies just so that Jason could throw them away.

The Stackhouse family was going through hard times, and everyone in Bon Temps knew it.

* * *

About two years ago, Jason had showed up at Gran's house in the middle of the night, wild in the eyes, announcing that he had knocked up Dawn Greene. Sookie bit back the urge to say 'I told you so,' but he slapped her across the face anyways, yelling that it was all her fault for not warning him better. She was incensed, but as Gran had taught her, she turned the other cheek. Jason stood before her a broken shell of a man, drunk off his ass, and scared as hell. He had never expected for his whoring ways to catch up with him, to stop the party that had been his life. The last thing he had ever wanted was to be a father, to be saddled with a child.

He had stumbled to the ground, wailing loudly that his life was over, that everything was completely fucked up.

Sookie had always sort of wondered how long it would be before Jason got one of his many sexual partners pregnant. Plus, she unfortunately knew, he wasn't a big fan of using protection, asking for trouble to knock on his door. Sookie thought it was amazing he'd managed to dodge this bullet for the last five years. And she secretly hoped it would help him to settle down, that he'd give up his vices – but she couldn't have been more wrong.

Jason took the news as ungracefully as possible, transforming from a social drinker to an all-out drunk, and then turning to heavier drugs, seeking out any opportunity to get plastered – to disconnect himself from reality.

While Dawn had at one time been eager to trap Jason, force him into marriage, she changed her tune once his drug use started. When he was high, he became a terrifying monster, acting barely human, randomly attacking people he believed had committed the offense of looking at him wrong. His behavior got so out of control that Dawn took out a restraining order on him, concurrently filing motions with the courts to retain full custody rights once her child was born.

She won custody easily, and Jason effectively had zero parental rights.

Even though Jason hadn't wanted anything to do with his own kid, the fact that Dawn had removed his choice had only driven him deeper into the world of drugs. He'd been in and out of jail a handful of times, but mostly the police tried to look the other way – thinking he was a good ol' boy who was wasn't hurting anyone but himself, making a couple 'boys will be boys' kind of mistakes. He had trouble holding down a job, but still somehow managed to afford his drugs. Sookie had her worst fears confirmed when she caught one of his stray thoughts that he had resorted to petty theft to fuel his addictions.

He began to badger her, harassing her about money. He tried emotional manipulations, telling her if she would just give him some cash he'd be able to clean up his act – get sober, once and for all.

She didn't believe him for one second, and she hid everything she had of value. Her money ended up in her mattress and the gift Fintan gave her went behind the dresser. She left everything else out in the open, hoping that if Jason decided to steal from her, he would find easy targets, not bother to rifle through her things. She was disappointed in her brother as she watched her jewelry disappear piece by piece; heartened by only one simple fact: he had enough respect not to steal from their Gran – Gran's room always remained untouched.

Gran had no idea how far gone Jason was, and Sookie couldn't stand the thought of breaking her heart by telling her.

* * *

Sookie stepped out into the restaurant to find Jason slumped down in one of the booths. His cheeks were sunken in and the bags under his eyes were a deep purple – he looked like he hadn't slept or eaten in a week. Sam had been a little too polite in his description of Jason, who reeked of alcohol. Sookie slipped into the other seat to sit down across from Jason before speaking.

"Oh, Jason, what have you gotten yourself into now?"

"None of your goddamn business, Sooks!" He whispered through gritted teeth in a sharp tone, and then softening a bit, "It's safer you don't know."

Sookie knew this was his game, putting on airs that he was still her sweet brother, which would have been a more sure play if he'd ever been sweet to her at all. But her relationship with Jason had never been easy or loving. He had always resented having a 'freak' for a sister, and he'd minced no words telling her so over the years.

"You're not dumb, Sooks, you know what I'm here for. Are you gonna give me the money or not? I know you got paid today. I can't dig outta this mess on my own; I need your help," He lowered his voice and grabbed for her hands, "Look in my eyes, Sooks; I'm there – I've hit rock bottom."

"No, Jase, you know I can't. Gran and I need the money that I've been saving up. You know the roof's in dire need of repair. It isn't going to fix itself."

"Shit, Sooks! This is more important than the fucking roof! This is all of our lives I'm talking about!"

Sookie's eyes widened; Jason had never gone so far before, never pushed this hard. She almost wanted to believe that he was in fact as desperate as he appeared to be.

"Sometimes, you fuck with the wrong people, Sooks, and shit falls apart."

"What does that mean, Jason?" She said, panic in her tone.

"It means you don't wanna find out what's gonna happen if you don't fucking help, Sook."

"Don't you threaten me, Jason Stackhouse; I'm done with your lies! You can't bully me around anymore!"

"What the FUCK little sis?! Goddamnit, you don't know what the fuck you're fucking talking about!"

Jason yelled at Sookie, his voice booming in the small dining space, while gripping Sookie's hand so tightly that she yelped out in pain. Sam rushed to the booth and pulled Jason out roughly by the scruff of his neck; he had no intentions of entertaining any of Jason's excuses for why he had hurt his friend slash employee. Jason had dragged Sookie with him for half a second before he released her, and she wondered how someone so drunk could have so much control, especially when caught off guard. She jumped up, rubbing her palms, backing up to put some distance between her and her brother.

"You know what Stackhouse?! That's it! You're banned from this bar; don't make me call the police to throw your ass out." Sam was pissed, tired of tolerating this bullshit every week.

Jason made a move to go after Sookie, raising his fists to her and lunging, but Sam was faster, punching him in the gut and knocking him to the floor. Taking a minute to catch his breath while Sam loomed over him, Jason sneered at his sister and flipped her the bird. Sam kicked him in response.

"Get out," Sam growled, fire burning in his eyes, "Before I fucking kill you."

Jason straightened up, and made his way to the door, tail tucked between his legs, but still livid with his sister, cursing her for failing to recognize the severity of the danger facing him, facing all of them. It was going to be all her fault if Gran got hurt, then Sookie'd realize what an unreasonable bitch she'd been.

"You ruin everything, and you've really fucked us all now. Yer gonna regret this, Sooks! Biggest mistake of your life!"

He headed in the direction of the farmhouse intent on searching Sookie's room for her stash of cash - he knew she was holding out. He really had bottomed out, and without a quick payment to some very big and scary guys – who Jason had managed to piss of something fierce – some bad fucking shit was going to happen.

* * *

Jason ambled down the street in a drunken stupor – the sun still high in the sky – grateful that his sister was so predictable, hiding her money under her mattress.

There had been something so satisfying in ripping her clothes from the closet and dresser, slashing deep gashes and gouges into her bed – yeah, that would show her what happened to uppity, holier-than-thou bitches. Figuring Gran was off at church – she hadn't responded when he called out, and he'd yelled pretty loud – Jason had really let loose, laughing and wreaking havoc like Loki on a bender. He hadn't been so happy in years, thinking of how miserable his sister was going to be when she arrived home.

And he'd been successful! Those debts were as good as gone, he thought as he patted Sookie's money in his back pocket. He hadn't heard anyone approach him before he was knocked to the ground by a sucker punch to the back of his head. Jason clutched at the wound, feeling the wet patch in his hair where blood was oozing out.

"What the fuuuuuuccccc…" he said before a large foot connected with the bridge of his nose.

"WHERE IS SHE YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!"

"Wha?" Jason spurted blood out as he tried to speak.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE WITH SOOKIE?!"

Jason looked up and, despite the heavy blur in his vision, he spied Sam Merlotte staring down at him with an inhuman glint in his eyes. Sam let his fury overtake him, kicking Jason over and over without restraint, continuing to scream at him.

Sobering a bit, perhaps from the attack, Jason figured that Sookie must have been kidnapped, that she was gone. His last thought before slipping into blackness was that maybe he really had been a dick to his sister – and that meant he'd have to admit that this was all his fault.


	16. Sunbeams and Moonbows

Eric flew back towards his home, eager to return to his lover – even though he knew from their bond that she was sleeping. His skin itched to be near her; he felt like a piece of him was missing. The hole inside him was uncomfortable and exquisite; truly, Sookie was his heart.

He could feel a softness growing inside him – a tenderness for life – that he feared he may have to tamp down. He worried that other vampires would see the sunshine in his veins, the happiness radiating from his eyes. It was something he could never allow; enemies would surely be knocking down his door once they spied the chip in his armor – Sookie.

His kind would covet her; they would hate her; they would kill her to strip him of the very thing they all wanted – bliss. Registering her as Pam's pet was step number one, but step number two was considerably more difficult – explaining to Sookie what it would mean to live in his world, what precautions they would have to take, and what airs they would have to put on.

He growled at himself thinking how he would never be able to touch her affectionately in public, or use a single term of endearment. That he would have to appear indifferent towards her, or act as if she was simply a feed and a fuck that his progeny had decided to house until they grew tired of her. He hated to think of the insecurities it might cause his lover, and it panged him to think he would be the cause of them.

But, if she let him, he would spend every night for the rest of eternity making it up to her.

* * *

Home again, Eric vamped down to his bedchamber to gaze at Sookie sprawled out on his bed. His undead heart clenched at the sight of her and he felt the hardness growing in his pants. He longed to make love to her again and again until the sun claimed him, but he could not bear to disturb her restful, much-needed sleep – sex could wait.

He removed his clothes and slipped under the covers to lie next to her. He turned on his side, draping his arms over her stomach. While she did not wake, her body responded, tucking herself against his tall frame, creating the perfect spoon. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply; she was Valhalla, his little Valkyrie, his älskade. He spoke softly, professing his love to her in every language he knew, stopping only to succumb the sunrise.

* * *

When the sun set, Eric's eyes snapped opened, realizing that Sookie was not beside him. He panicked momentarily, swearing his heart had fluttered, but found in the bond that she was okay, still in the house. He didn't call out for her – he didn't need to – and she nearly jumped out of her skin when he appeared in front of her, leaning down quickly to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Mmmmm..." He purred, dragging his tongue down the nape of her neck, "You've been in the sunlight."

She shuddered at his touch, closing the book in her lap. She set the ancient tomb down on the reading table beside the big comfy chair she had found in Eric's library. She had been impressed with his house as she explored, but this room was easily her favorite – it felt the most like home. A wave of sadness passed through her, washing over her quickly as Eric scooped her up into his arms and pressed her to his chest.

"Are you always going to know just what I need?"

"I certainly hope so." He replied, tucking her head under his chin. He wanted her to climb into his chest and never leave – this felt so right, like completeness.

He sighed as he set her down, knowing that it was important to talk, especially since she had at some point left the safety of his house. He assumed she had not gone farther than his own backyard, but fences would not stop werewolves. He chastised himself for not warning her the night before about other supernatural creatures. She needed to know there were monsters other than vampires lurking about, one's that weren't confined to the night.

Of course, he would rather rip her clothes off and ravage her until she screamed his name in ecstasy.

"I can feel that, you know? Your lust. I mean, all of you, but your lust right now. I like this bond we share." She said, drawing her finger slowly down his chest, not stopping at his waistband, groping the erection burgeoning in his pants. She teased at his head with her fingers, slipping her soft hand around his length and stroking.

"Well, aren't you sweet?"

"Not really."

She quipped back with a fiery passion in her eyes. She had never expected that losing her virginity would make her feel so sexually charged; her body yearned for his. She knew he wanted to talk, and they would – right after he made love to her in this room, and possibly every other room in the house.

She pulled her hand from his pants and jumped onto his body, straddling her legs around his waist, tucking her arms over his shoulders. She bit along his neck playfully, "Let's try it a little rougher this time. Take me, Mister Sheriff Vampire," she breathed into his ear in a raspy whisper, "Take me now."

"Något för mitt hjärta," Eric replied, ripping her clothes off and sliding into her tight wet heat in one fluid motion.

She was uninhibited in her fervor, greedy for his gracious plenty. Their coupling the night before had been slow and reverent – better than she could've ever dreamt for her first time. This time, it was passionate, fueled by carnal need, and unencumbered by insecurities. They were hungry for one another as if they had been apart for weeks; their bodies ignited instantly as they touched.

Eric pushed her back against the wall – careful not to injure her – to give her the leverage she needed to grind her hips into his. He nipped and licked at her ear, running his tongue along the lobe, eliciting a shiver from his lover. She pulled his head back by his hair to claim his mouth and they feverishly kissed, tongues entwined and vying for the dominant position. Eric broke the kiss and, in a supplicant gesture, tilted his head to offer her his neck, bidding her to drink. Sookie understood his meaning – they were truly equals – and tore at his flesh with her blunt teeth, surprised once again that instead of being repulsed by the flavor of his blood she was reveling in it – he tasted like home to her. He paused a moment to enjoy the feel of her drawing in his essence before allowing himself the pleasure of her blood – his personal utopia. She dug her nails into his arm, as she claimed by a bone-melting orgasm. He growled hungrily, as her warmth squeezed and pulsated against him – Gods, what this woman did to him – pulling his own release from him.

His wound healed, and she laid her head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling at him, purring her happiness like a kitten. He gingerly withdrew his fangs and licked the tiny blood trails that had escaped his mouth. With a quick prick of his forefinger, he healed his marks on her neck, kissing her once again pristine and honey-colored skin.

"We are very good at that." She said, sated and contented.

He laughed a little and agreed, "Yes, my lover; we are the best."

* * *

"It won't always be like this, will it?"

Eric cocked his head at her a bit, not fully understanding, "The sex, lover? Actually, it will get better and better as we learn each other's bodies."

"No, baby, this," She said waggling her finger between them, pointing at herself then him over and over, "It won't always be this easy, will it? We're sort of in a little bubble right now, our own little world. We need to talk about how we make this work – in your world, I mean - don't we?"

It was if she could read his mind, though he knew that was impossible. He was not so paranoid to require verbal confirmation from his lover that his mind was blank to her – if she could've plucked his thoughts from his head, she would have known he was a vampire. All too often, during their fights, his mind would drift to his work as Sheriff of Area 5, and the disputes he had ignored to effectively be yelled at by a beautiful human woman. No, she had been certain he was a man, which meant his mind had been blank to her.

He expected that it was more likely that she was already adept at picking up subtle nuances in the bond, which was perhaps a byproduct of her telepathy. As a mind reader, she would have had more experience with emotions than anyone alive, and been lucky enough to hear the motivations behind all of them. People studied for years, often without success, to learn what her imagined came naturally to his lover – reading people. And he bet after all these years, she could do it even without the use of her gift – like she was doing now. It would explain why she was reading even the smallest tinges in the bond – he was impressed; he was proud.

"I was planning to talk to you about this very subject; it seems that you may have a keen sense when it comes to our bond, to me. I have never bonded before but…"

She cut him off, "Seriously?!"

She wasn't angry; she was surprised. She didn't know exactly how long he had been alive – undead, she reminded herself – but he was certainly not young; she could see his years plainly in his eyes, even if she couldn't count them.

He chuckled, "I've been known to be… selfish, especially when it comes to sharing my essence. There have been less than a handful, not including you and Pam, in all of my existence who have had the pleasure of drinking my blood."

While Sookie had been no stranger to panic attacks, they now seemed to be peering over her shoulder ready to strike at any moment. She tried to stave it off, but could not, her small form shaking at the mere mention of Pam's name. She swore to herself that she had to work on getting past the trauma of that night – this fear was not going to rule her. She was a Stackhouse woman damnit; she could do anything she set her mind to - and right now, it was set on controlling her breathing.

Eric moved to sit beside Sookie, pulling her into his lap and drawing comforting circles on her back as she gasped for breaths into his chest. He hated that her body harbored an innate fear of his child, especially since his child was sworn to be one of her protectors. He didn't care if Sookie ever forgave Pam – even though he had; all he wanted was for his companion to be well, unburdened.

Sookie calmed some, regaining her breath and he spoke, "I wish you were not immune to glamour, then I could take this pain from you, make you forget."

"Don't say that; you can't mess with someone's past, their memories, without changing them. I hate some of the things that have happened to me, but I would never trade them away because they made me who I am. And I love who I am – I wouldn't be this person if I hadn't been forced to overcome those fucking awful things. "

Eric was taken aback. In his time with (and watching) Sookie Stackhouse, he had rarely heard her utter a curse word. He could feel her resolved mixed with a modicum of shame in their bond, and he knew, from her words, it was not due to her expletive.

"Who hurt you?"

His tone and their bond told her everything; he had also been powerless at one point, a toy belonging to someone else.

"My great uncle," She looked into his eyes; a tear slipped down her cheek. It had been years since she had admitted that pain out loud to another soul, "You?"

"My maker."

"Oh, Eric!" She exclaimed as she saw a bloody trail from his eye, throwing her arms around him. "I'LL KILL HIM," she snarled.

He smiled; she really did love him.

"Sookie, would you want me to dispatch your monster?"

"No," she said quietly, "His life is hell right now; death would be too good for him."

"The same for mine."

She nodded, his truthfulness resounding in their tie.

"A matching set," she said smiling a small smile, falling into his oceanic orbs. She felt free, as if some of her burdens had been lifted – truly, she was not alone in this world.

"So it seems," He said, smiling broadly before letting it slip from his countenance, "Lover, we must return to our main topic, and I fear it will upset you. There is much about the supernatural world you need to know. While I would normally prefer to shield you from it – keep truths from you – I know now that choice would only serve to further endanger you."

She waited patiently for him to continue.

"Vampires believe they are the superior race – that humans are a merely source of entertainment and sustenance. I would be remiss if I lied, told you that at one time I hadn't felt the same way... I can tell you that I am no longer of the same mind. But it will not change your status in the eyes of others. I can't offer you the life I would like, not when we are in the presence of vampires; you will always been looked down upon, considered to be lesser. Especially given my rank and title, vampires will expect to see you asking my permission for all things, including the honor of touching me. Humans are expected to be submissive and compliant, to heel nicely. I know it's demeaning – to even ask you to consider doing such a thing – but I beg you to understand that they will assume that you are glamoured, not acting of your own free will – as I mentioned before, no one can ever know that you cannot be glamoured."

He noted that she flinched, but made no moves to interrupt him; he soldiered on with the most painful and difficult conversation he'd ever had in his entire life.

"I will have to be indifferent towards you, cold and aloof. I am very skilled at this – it's likely you will believe, at some point, that I have no feelings for you at all. But I will always love you, never doubt that. I will regret treating you poorly in front of others, but if they discover how I value you, they will strike not only at me, but at you. I promise I will spend ever private moment worshiping you, showing you that I revere you. You are my everything; you bring sunshine into my life. I know this may be too much for you, but I would rather you leave me because you cannot accept my world than risk your existence by expecting you to traverse it blindfolded."

Sookie responded, never breaking their eye contact, so that he could see as well as feel the complex emotions coursing through her, understand that she was refusing to give him a knee-jerk reaction – even if it was sometimes her default when confronted with tough situations.

"Thank you, for being honest with me. I don't like any of that, but it wouldn't be the only time I've pretended to be something I wasn't. I'm not saying yes to all that nonsense, mind you; I'm saying I'll think about it."

He nodded, but felt a sadness in the bond that he knew to be a mix of hers and his own; he wished his world was easier.

"We must also discuss your kidnapping. Your captors were werewolves…"

"What!? Gran said there's no such thing!" Sookie clamped her hand across her mouth. 'Shoot,' she thought, 'why did I say that?'

Despite cocking a curious eyebrow in her direction, he continued, "Werewolves often look human, but they transform into wolves. It's a myth that the full moon controls them. While they _must_ shift for the moon, they can take animal form at any time. They are faster and stronger than any human; they care only for their pack, and the contracts they accept. I don't want to alarm you, but I'm certain the werewolves work for the vampire from the warehouse. Day or night, your safety is at risk, my lover."

"So I'm never safe... werewolves, vampires, faeries..." she mumbled the second part very quietly to herself, at such a low volume that Eric couldn't hear anything she said clearly.

He could've sworn she said fairies, but he shook it off.

Suddenly, she understood the purpose behind her telepathy, what protections it could offer. She was so excited she couldn't contain herself.

"Oh my gosh! I bet I could spot a supernatural creature from a mile away! Yes, I definitely could! Your minds are different from humans. Vampires are voids, static, but still I know when you guys are around. And werewolves, those guys are hazy to me... this is great!" She said smiling, while simultaneously cataloging every "strange" mind she'd ever come across – Sam Merlotte was going to have some explaining to do.

"Well that's useful, sweet pea. You're like a supe radar, you little trouble magnet you." Pam asserted, wandering into the room.

Sookie screamed before her hand, of its own volition, reached out to punch Pam in the face. 'Well', she thought, 'that was stupid, but at least it wasn't another panic attack.'

* * *

 **A/N:** **Något för mitt hjärta = Anything for my heart.**


	17. Light Up the Shadows

Eric roared in laughter as Sookie's fist connected with Pam's face – what a firecracker she was! So unpredictable. He had worried, as he felt Pam enter the house, that Sookie would succumb once again to her fears, but instead apparently her fight response had kicked in – and Pam's face paid the price for the attack on his lover.

Sookie looked mortified as she pulled her hand back. She couldn't believe what she had done – hitting a vampire seemed like the opposite of being careful and smart. She waited for Pam's reaction, standing in front of the woman who had attacked her. Eric could feel Sookie's fear, but he was amazed that she looked as defiant and confident as ever – staring down a vampire like it the most natural thing in the world. He would have never guessed that before this moment the mere thought of Pam had been sent Sookie into a whirlwind of emotions, drowning her in anxieties. Facing down her attacker, Sookie was a fighter, tough – a warrior.

Pam was impressed with Eric's bonded for having the balls to punch a vampire – Sookie really was a feisty woman. She joined Eric, throwing her hair back and laughing until she started to cry bloody tears.

"Oh, Eric, I love her already!"

Sookie looked from Eric to Pam to Eric, realizing there was something between them, something she was missing. He had never explained who Pam was to him; maybe she really was his undead wife or girlfriend or made for him– like the Bride of Frankenstein or something. Irritation swelled within her; why had he not explained this? Was he trying to hide it from her?

"Sookie, this is my child, Pam. Pam, you've… met Sookie."

Pam rolled her eyes; Eric could be so agitating sometimes.

"Hello sunshine, I expect that apologies are in order."

Sookie cocked at eyebrow at Pam, not allowing any sudden movements, frozen like Pam was a predator – ready to strike at any moment. Her hands were fisted at her sides.

Pam took note of Sookie's stance, and stepped back, to give Sookie what she assumed was much needed space.

"Dearest Sookie, I am sorry that I had to attack you."

" _Excuse_ me? Not good enough," Sookie snapped back, unnerved that Pam had even bothered to offer such a non-apology – instantly more offended than frightened.

"Angelic Sookie, vision of love and beauty, I am prostrate that I was wicked and violated your smooth and voluptuous body. I beg your forgiveness."

Sookie couldn't help it; she doubled over laughing.

"Dial it back, Pam – I'm still not going to sleep with you."

"Oh Sookie, you are quite delectable, but my maker would bring me my final death if I laid one little finger on your delicious frame. Until such time that he changes his mind, I will be complacent simply ogling you from afar," Pam said waggling her eyebrows and licking her lips, only half-joking.

"Pamela…" Eric's voice had a warning in it that Pam did not ignore. But Sookie chimed in, feeling his anger in the bond, wanting to stop whatever animosity had started brewing.

"Eric, it's okay. I don't mind if Pam flirts a bit – as long as she keeps her fangs to herself this time."

Sookie smiled, and Eric could feel that all of her anxieties had eased. He was amazed at how much control she could exert over her emotions, over her reactions – she would make a stunning vampire.

"See, Eric? I told you she'd understand. All is forgiven."

"Forgiven, not forgotten; don't think I'm going to turn my back on you any time soon."

"Yummy! I don't mind one bit getting to enjoy your front side for a while."

"Too much, Pam," Eric growled lowly, too quiet for Sookie to hear.

"Eric, I have come to take your bonded out for some shopping. I may or may not have ruined the clothes at her house in a fit of jealousy, and I owe her for that – and maybe also the bite. Plus, she can't keep wearing the same outfits over and over; I won't have others thinking we don't take care of what's ours."

"Ours?" Sookie questioned, confusion sweeping across her countenance; what the hell was Pam talking about?

* * *

Pam was glad that Eric had agreed, even if he had grumbled about letting his bonded out of the protection of his wards. He was placated by Pam's insistence that he place a maker's command that she give her life for Sookie if need be; she would have done it anyways, but it made Eric feel better knowing that she was compelled to. This little human really had changed him so much, and Pam was finally beginning to accept that he was more than he had been before, not weaker at all.

Pam hooked her arm through Sookie's and dragged her into Chanel.

"Oh Pam, no…." Sookie said shaking her head furiously. She couldn't let Pam buy her something so expensive.

"Oh, don't worry! It's Eric's money!"

"No, Pam," Sookie insisted, taking her arm back to cross both over her chest, "I'm not going to be a kept woman! I'm a Stackhouse; I take care of myself."

"Sookie," Pam whispered, pulling her aside, "Can you feel any supernaturals nearby?"

Sookie closed her eyes to focus on the minds around her, dropping the shields that kept her sane, looking for static or hazy patches. Finding none, she shook her head, "No, just humans around."

"Let's chat; girlfriends do that – we are girlfriends, right? I saw the face you made earlier, your confusion, when I called you 'ours' – mine and Eric's. I take it Eric didn't quite explain the situation to you?"

"He was pretty clear that humans are low on the totem pole, and that he'd have to pretend I mean nothing to him. I'm… not sure how I feel about it." And she wasn't, she'd barely had any time to think about what he had said, about his world, about how she fit into it.

"Yeah… I don't think he really told you, not all of it at least. You and I? We are cut from the same cloth. He's got a type, you know? Smart, blonde – independent. I told him he should tell you the whole of it, but he was…afraid," Pam spit the word out like it had burned her mouth, "that you might not understand. And I don't know if you will, but I'd be pissed if I didn't know up front – I bet you'd feel the same."

"Can it really get much worse?"

"Depends on how you look at it. Sookie, vampires have been around for thousands and thousands of years. Eric himself is over a thousand, give or take a decade. We have a well-structured society that functions right under the noses of the human race. It is believed that the only vampire one can trust is the one they make, which is the only reason why Eric trusts me at all. Eric, being as old as he is, has a _lot_ of enemies; vampires who seek to take what is his because to do so would make them infamous. Even being his child puts me at risk; I have to be one tough hard bitch so that others know that fucking with me could mean their lives."

Pam paused to take an unnecessary breath. Something about this conversation made her uneasy. She did not want to run her maker's bonded away, but she could not hold her tongue – he was making a mistake by not telling Sookie and she would not stand by and watch his heart leave him for his foolishness. Sookie was a proud woman, and strong. She could handle the label, Pam was sure of it.

"We need blood to survive, human blood. In this day and age, it is more and more difficult to feed without drawing attentions. And humans more and more often dilute their blood with toxins and impurities. When a vampire finds a stable food source, they want to keep it. The vampire hierarchy enacted a system, in response to the changing world; it requires vampires to register the humans they intend to keep long-term – their pets."

"WHAT!?"

Sookie screamed so loudly that everyone in the store peered in their direction. Pam scowled at Sookie, moving them away from prying eyes, out of the store and into the alley off of the sidewalk.

"Pets," Pam continued, ignoring Sookie's outburst, "belong to the vampire and are part of each state's registry – it allows one vampire to punish another for harming her pet, a legal recourse for injuring a vampire's property. We have registered you as my pet; it would be too risky to name you as anything else. Unheard of to call you Eric's bonded, his heart. Or even mine."

Sookie was seething, clenching her jaw and staring daggers at Pam. She understood where Pam was going with this.

"I'm not a fucking pet – I'm a person, not a dog!"

"You're right; unlike your shifter boss, you are not a dog" Pam replied, hoping Sookie would catch the meaning in her words, "Anyways, it's _just_ a label, like Chanel or Prada… or schizophrenic – it doesn't mean that's what you are."

Sookie gaped at Pam; no one had called her schizophrenic in years, not since Gran had threatened the Bon Temps' town drunk with a loaded shotgun, promising to rein down hell – and bullets – on anyone who dared call her beloved granddaughter that word ever again.

Pam, once again, drew an unnecessary breath, knowing she would have to relive the pain of losing her one human friend – Sookie's Gran – to help Sookie understand.

* * *

Sookie listened intently as Pam recounted her conversations with Gran. She was sad but happy to remember her Gran. Sookie believed Pam when she admitted her love for Gran – that Gran had made her feel human. As it turned out, there was very little that Gran had not confided in Pam, which told Sookie that Gran had also loved Pam. If Gran had trusted Pam, Sookie knew that she could to.

"So you registered me as your pet, and vampires will believe I'm yours? And that's the safest thing to do? To treat me like some measly possession?"

Pam shrugged her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Sweet pea, we register humans to solidify our intentions to protect them; you may think it's a legal slave trade, but it's really much bigger than that. It's proof that we will fight for you. You are Eric's; you love him and he loves you. And I hate to admit it – and if you tell him I told you, I will drain you without hesitation – but he is yours. You may not understand the weight of what that means, but before now Eric has belonged to no one but his maker.

You've done the impossible, and not because you are human.

All he wants to do is show you how precious you are too him. If he dared to call you his companion, his equal – and never doubt that he sees you as his equal – his enemies would strike at you, because killing his heart would kill him. And I'm sort of a cold, heartless bitch, so no one would believe it for a minute if I said I had taken a companion – a pet for sure, but not a companion.

It's just a label, Sookie; you are no more a pet than you are a schizophrenic. Why care what others think? It doesn't make it the truth."

Sookie opened her mouth to react, but hesitated – Pam made a good point. Before she could even think to say anything else she heard someone screaming her name from the sidewalk.

"SOOKIE! Sookie Stackhouse! Is that you, girl!?"

* * *

Pam had not been eager to let Sookie out of sight, but Sookie insisted that the girl who had interrupted them was her best friend Tara, and that not speaking to Tara would be a mistake. Pam tried to convince Sookie to let her glamour this Tara, but Sookie would have none of it. Pam could not understand why she had given in, but she had. She remained close; she had promised to protect Sookie with her life, and she would – even if she was not under the maker's command.

* * *

"Where the flying fucks have you been?! Everybody thinks you're fucking dead!"

Tara always did have quite a sailor's mouth on her, Sookie thought to herself.

"Oh my gosh! I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Tara! I got into a bit of trouble after work one day, so I went to stay with a friend." Sookie responded apologetically, upset that she had to betray her best friend by lying to her.

"A fucking friend?! You don't have any other fucking friends!"

"Real nice, Tara Thornton! Real nice!"

"Ugh! I'm sorry, Sooks! You know what I fucking mean… It's just…You could've fucking called, or something. Jason's fucking missing and then they found your Gran…" Tara stopped, realizing she was about to tell her friend she had lost her Gran in the most insensitive way possible.

"Jase's missing?"

"Gone; they think he's fucking dead too. Shit, Sooks, they think Sam did it – killed all of you in a jealous rage or something. They've got him fucking locked up in the goddamn jail while they look for your fucking bodies. They found him fucking covered in Jason's blood, wandering down the fucking highway, screaming for you. And then Gran… And they found your blood… and then you're here, like nothing's fucking going on! This is all just too fucking fucked up to handle..."

* * *

Pam did not like the conversation she was overhearing between Sookie and her friend. This Tara was upsetting Sookie, of that she was sure. Her maker would be quite displeased at this turn of events.

She felt the approach of another vampire from her left, and moved to block any path to Sookie, who was a ways away on her right. Pam recognized the intruder instantly; it was Bill fucking Compton, the Queen of Louisiana's lackey, her procurer.

"Pam, I thought I might find you out shopping; you really are a Chanel girl, aren't you?"

"What the fuck do you want, Bill? I figured after last time you'd finally get it through your thick skull that I don't fuck dicks like you."

She watched him flinch at her language; he was so uptight – a stick shoved permanently up his ass.

"You and your maker – why do you always refuse to show me the respect my position deserves? I work for the Queen!" Bill whined.

"Guess we're just a pair of peas in a pod," She snarled at him. She really hated Bill. He was the Queen's lap dog, a suck-up through and through, "Why the fuck are you here? Don't make me ask again, Compton."

"Have you have tried to register Miss Sookie Stackhouse, age 22, of Bon Temps, Louisiana as your pet?"

"You have your answer already since you've obviously read the fucking paperwork."

"You must renounce your claim."

"Haha, Bill – not a chance; now go the fuck away before I stake you with my Jimmy Choos."

Pam turned from him; she had to get Sookie out of here. It wasn't good that anyone had paid this kind of attention to the registry; usually the paperwork was just a formality, stamped and filed without a second glance. It only mattered if an attack occurred, when one vampire chose to ignore the smell of another vampire's blood in a human.

"You can't have her; she is already registered to someone else."

"Impossible!"

Bill moved to speak again, but was interrupted as Sookie rounded the corner, looking for Pam, too rattled to search for any voids in her range.

"Pam? What's going on?"

"Miss Stackhouse!" Bill said as he grabbed at Sookie, yanking her by the arm. She yelped out loudly in pain as his nails dug into her skin, drawing blood.

Before Pam could attack Bill Compton for his offense, Sookie disappeared into thin air. Both vampires were stunned; neither had any idea what the hell had just happened.

* * *

After realizing she was in Eric's library – her favorite spot in his house – Sookie's heart began to beat wildly in her chest. 'What the hell just happened', she thought before she heard Eric vamp into the space. She held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything.

"It seems, lover, that you may have one more secret to tell."

* * *

 **A/N: For those of you don't like Bill or his appearance in this story, may I remind you that he can't get killed off if he doesn't bother to come around. :)**


	18. FLASHBACK, Lunar Eclipse

**A/N: Flashback**

 *****Before Chapter 1*****

* * *

Sookie had always struggled with her powers.

Mr. Cataliades tried to teach a 7-year old Sookie to focus, to look inside herself for her center, but that had always been hard for her. She laughed at the time, but often his words echoed through her mind as she aged – 'Your powers can only protect you if you master them.' She had found it funny because her curse had done quite the opposite of keeping her safe; it had been the cause of all of her problems – including the loss of her parents.

She had tried not to take on the burden, the guilt of their deaths, but it was something her brother strangely would not let go.

Just after the Stackhouse parents' death, Jason had tried to hide how much he blamed his sister for the sudden change in their lives. He felt like living with Gran was the worst thing in the world – not because she was hard on them, quite the opposite in fact, but because he no longer had someone grooming him to be become a football legend. What was odd was that not even Jason knew why he blamed Sookie – and yet the urge was within there, breeding contemptuous feelings within him. When Sookie probed his mind, because for the life of her she could not remember the night of her parents died, she found a weird emptiness where Jason's memories should have been. She didn't know what to make of it.

When Sookie told Mr. Cataliades about the holes in Jason's mind, he snapped at her, admonishing her for rudely digging too deep into her brother's mind, but Sookie didn't miss the look of concern that had swept across his face before he left the room stating he had to talk to someone. She earned a glare from him, after plucking a name from his head before he exited the room – a name that moments later she couldn't remember, despite her many efforts.

Sookie tried to never delve that far into anyone's mind ever again – that was until she was kidnapped and held hostage in a warehouse. Then it felt like a matter of necessity over propriety. But it turned out despite her moral struggle that her efforts were in vain; she was surrounded by hazy minds and one that was quiet, like a light-buzzing static.

* * *

When Sookie woke up on the cold, hard concrete floor, the first thing she did was drop her shields to cast a mental net out into her surroundings. It was dark, almost so much so that she could barely see her hand in front of her face. She clutched her head; the blow that knocked her out still smarted like the dickens. She wasn't sure if she was bleeding; her hand felt wet as she pulled it back, but her clothes were inexplicably wet also. She hoped, given time, that her eyes would adjust, but she wasn't terribly optimistic as the time passed.

There was no one there – no minds within at least a couple of hundred feet – and she couldn't tell if it was night or day. Time passed strangely; she saw the men come in and out, demanding she give them some idea of where Jason had hidden an unknown item, before they would leave. She was brought no meals, which had her wondering if her imprisonment merely _felt_ longer than it was – surely, they would feed her. But she worried in the back of her mind that they didn't feed her because they saw no point – why bother to buy food for a dead woman?

Sookie suspected that Jason's drug issues were to blame for her current predicament. Getting hit hard in the back of the head while trying to drive home from Merlotte's made it pretty clear that all of Jason's huff and puffing wasn't purely for show. He'd obviously gotten in trouble with some sort of gang – these guys were huge and brawny, except for the ringleader, who looked like maybe he hadn't seen the sun in the past twenty years. It scared her, thinking that he was some creepy shut-in who had appeared, leaving his presumably safe abode, for the sole purpose of questioning her about Jason and whatever he had apparently stolen.

She felt little relief that after stumbling around a bit, looking for a way out – she had found a toilet and, across the room, a gallon of… she didn't know what it was.

She'd been so grateful to find it, she hadn't even questioned it – until she drank a little bit. When she tipped it into her mouth, she was overwhelmed by a disgusting liquid that tasted lightly of iron – she spit it out instantly, retching up the non-existent contents of her stomach, exacerbating her headache. She had passed out shortly after. On the second day, she drank it greedily; she couldn't afford not to, pinching her nose in hopes the taste would dull as she swallowed the vile liquid.

She wondered if they had drugged it with some sort of medicine because once it settled into her stomach her head had surprisingly started to feel better. Shortly after, the pale man made his entrance, like an actor to the stage.

"Your brother is a very foolish man, Miss Stackhouse – or may I call you Sookie?"

Sookie glared at him saying nothing in response.

"Quite rude for a lady of the south; where is that southern charm y'all are so famous for? No matter," He said, waved his hand flippantly through the air, "As I was saying, your brother is a foolish man, and he has stolen something I would very much like to see returned."

"I. Don't. Know. What. You. Want."

She thought it was curious that no one – not one of them during hours of interrogation – had mentioned what it was Jason took. How did they expect her to know where to tell them to look if she didn't know what they were looking for? But despite her insistence that she had no idea what they were talking about, screaming it passionately at them with tears streaming down her face, they continued to ask her the same question, over and over and over.

It definitely didn't help that her telepathy was doing her zero favors; she wondered if somehow situations fraught with stress negated the few benefits of her abilities. 'How can it be a gift if it's worthless when I need it most? Fintan was wrong; no one would want me for my mind reading – it goes on the fritz without warning…' She thought to herself, giving herself a little consolation somehow.

* * *

Sophie Anne, the vampire Queen of Louisiana, was fangs deep in her latest pet's upper thigh listening to the insufferable Bill Compton prattle on incessantly about a human child diagnosed with a mental illness. Honestly, all she had heard from him was "blah, blah, blah… child… blah, blah, blah… interesting… blah, blah, blah… schizophrenia… blah, blah, blah… asset…" Until he said "asset," Sophie Anne had been wondering why the fuck Bill Compton thought it was appropriate to disturb her dinner. Her ears peeked at the prospect of obtaining a human Bill Compton believed to be an asset – a lot of bad things could be said about Compton, but he was an exceptional procurer, the best even when at his worst.

It had been a boon when he had joined her kingdom; she had stolen him away from countless monarchs because he was a sentimental vampire and wanted to be close to his human home. She despised his sentiments – they signaled the weakness within him – but his talents more than outshined his flaws. He had brought her every pet and delicacy she currently feasted upon.

She had hosted every summit or counsel of kings and queens for the past years due his acquisitions, bringing the finest donors, which in turn brought all of the monarchies to beg at Sophie Anne's door for a taste of her buffet. With a thousand year old Viking in her court and a bloodhound of a procurer, Sophie Anne was one of the most allied vampires in the whole United States – it was good to be Queen of Louisiana, but she was a greedy queen and she always wanted more.

"An asset, you say?" She inquired, pulling her fangs from her pet, tearing at the young woman's flesh. Sophie Anne cared not for her humans' welfare – she could easily have Bill find her another.

"A child still, but I think there is something special about Sookie Stackhouse worth investigating. I would like permission to leave the Louisiana court for Bon Temps, to see for myself."

"And what if you confirm that she is special? Are you willing to harm a child, bring her to me?"

"If she could be an asset, her age will only be a benefit. Growing up with vampires will acclimate her to our society. If I am right, I will bring her back for you and for Louisiana, my Queen."

Sophie Anne pricked her finger with the tip of her fang, rubbing her blood into the wound of the woman spread-eagled before her. If her procurer was to be gone, she would need this human alive for at least another couple of days.

"Then you have my blessing. Godspeed, William Compton; a title waits for you if you can strengthen the great state of Louisiana with the addition of an exceptionally talented human to my court. But," She hissed with fire in her eyes, and her fangs elongated somehow even more than during her feeding, "If I find you have wasted my time, I will wrap you in silver for at least fifteen years."

Fangs retracted, a bubbly tone affected, and a bright smile donned, Sophie Anne added, "Happy hunting!"

* * *

"What do you mean Sookie's in danger? What kind of danger, Fintan?"

"Adele, we must focus; her mother seems intent on keeping her. I was merely hoping to impress upon you that we must redouble our efforts to extricate Sookie from your son and his wife's care as soon as possible."

"Don't you dare, Fintan; don't you dare hide things from me! This is my granddaughter we are talking about. I deserve to know what you know."

Fintan sighed; how could he tell his human lover, the owner of his heart, that he had brought trouble to their door by way of his heritage? He did not fear her ire – her anger he could handle – but he expected that this would be the last straw, the thing that would cause her to eliminate him from her life permanently. She had tried, years ago, when her husband was still alive, to turn from their relationship, touting her marriage vows as the reason that he must remain farther away than the shadows.

"Vampires, Adele; bloodsuckers. My father fears they will want her, for her blood and for her gift. Much attention has been brought to her with this diagnosis; he believes it won't be long before they are knocking at your son's door, glamouring him or his wife so that they may have her. I could barely convince him to leave her in the human realm once he discovered she had the spark. Now… he means to take her back to the Faerie Realm; he says he is tired of doing this the human way."

He steeled himself for her response.

"Bullshit!"

It was all Adele had said in response, and Fintan was shocked; she rarely, if ever, cursed and the last time he had heard such utterances from her was when he decided to share that he was a fairy in a much larger supernatural world. She had not taken the news well, and it seemed that this news was to be digested in a similar manner.

"My father could protect her; he is a prince of the Faerie Realm."

"I don't give a shit who he is; if he takes her, I'll never see my dear sweet Sookie again. He'll keep her! This has nothing to do with vampires, and you know it! Every few years your family pops in spouting off about some new threat. Quit being blind to it, Fintan! The real threat is them!"

She spit out venomously, casting him a look that told him not to provoke a mama bear. Adele chastised herself for not worrying more for her grandson, but he had no spark – he was not a target, while his sister very much was. Fintan had told Adele enough of his family that she knew he saw them through rose-colored glasses, thinking they meant well – they were devious, cunning, and deceitful at heart; if they wanted Sookie, it was for some other reason than to keep her safe.

"You! You brought this mess upon us; you _will_ find us another way out! Your family is not going to take my baby girl!"

There was a pleading mixed with the anger in Adele's voice and it broke Fintan's old heart. He had lived a long life, over 700 years, but he had never felt for anyone the way he felt for Adele – she was his everything, and her heart was breaking at the _mere thought_ of losing Sookie – even though she didn't even have her yet, despite her legal maneuverings.

"There is something we can do to hide her from the fairies," Fintan said quietly, with a tone of defeat and a hint of pride in himself, "It is a binding spell; it will connect us, permanently. Our lives will serve as a protection shield for Sookie, living in us until our deaths – at which time it will transfer to an object; an object that will be meant for Sookie alone."

Adele did not hesitate for one second to agree.

"Anything for Sookie."

* * *

Bill watched the child from the tree outside her window. It hadn't take long for him to find Sookie Stackhouse, and he was disgusted to see that she was a prisoner in her own home. He was mesmerized by her – she often created her own little worlds and entertained herself. Humans were prone to go insane in solitude, which was why they punished their prisoners in such a way, but she seemed okay, as if unburdened. He had seen her have fits here and there, but at such a young age – seven, he thought, she looked the same size as his own child had at that age – her mental fortitude was exceptionable, enviable.

He observed her for far too long given his assignment. He had concluded, almost instantly, that she was exactly what he had hypothesized – a telepathic human child. But after a few short days, he was desperate to sink his fangs into her and call her his own. She had hypnotized him. He wanted her; she would be a magnificent vampire – he was sure of it.

* * *

Bill controlled himself as he watched the Stackhouse parents load their unconscious daughter into their vehicle in the rain. He was livid; they were giving up on such a unique and talented child – all for a reason he could not espy from their interactions. He gathered it was the mother's fault, who kept goading the father into continuing their voyage. Michelle, Sookie's mother, had continued to ply the father with alcohol until he conceded that the 'nuthouse' was the best place for their bloodkin, despite his earlier protestations. Bill was sick watching this family, but grateful that he would finally have his opportunity to take the young, exquisite child from them.

He followed at vamp speed behind their car in the rain, every so often pushing the bumper to cause the vehicle to sway and lose grip with the road. Something in him told him that Sookie could only be 'his' once her parents were dead, that he owed her their deaths for forsaking her. He pushed, once more, and watched the car skid off the road into the river. The Stackhouse parents scratched at the door and windows giving no thought to their child and Bill thought this was detestable. One at a time, he caught each's eye, glamouring them to be still and accept their fate.

He opened the door to the back seat and grabbed the child, Sookie Stackhouse, and her belongings – vamping away before emergency vehicles descended upon the scene.

Back at the Stackhouse residence, Bill grappled with his promise to bring the asset to his Queen. Sookie was most certainly an asset, but he wanted her to be more in his world – he wanted her to be his. If he brought her back, she would belong to the Queen. No, he would have to accept his punishment – 15 years in silver – and come back for her later. The Queen was not listening during his plea so she would never remember the name of his interest, and he knew could easily make an excuse to go back to Bon Temps in the future.

He knocked at the door of the Stackhouse with Sookie stilled in his arms. A small boy – Jason, Bill remembered – rubbing his eyes, answered the door. Bill was quick to grab Jason in his glamour, not knowing how much the boy would remember otherwise.

"Invite me in."

"Won't you come in?"

Bill Compton walked in, vamping Sookie and her belongings to her room before returning to the now man of the house, the small boy. He wanted to ensure that during his 15 years in solitude that Sookie would not have the warmth of her family to console her. While he couldn't take her with him, he wanted her to be pathetic and needy when he had the chance to happen into her life again.

"Your parents were lost because of your sister. You will not remember why, but you will not forget she was the catalyst for their deaths. You will blame her for every bad that happens in your life."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Yep, Bill's an asshole. Not a Bill fan. Not. One. Bit.**


	19. Fireflies and Snakes in the Grass

Minutes passed between them as Eric stared at the woman who had popped up into his upstairs room.

His mind was running a million miles per minute as he pieced together every bit of information he had ever gathered about Sookie Stackhouse in an attempt to categorize her. It was a short list of supernaturals that had the ability to teleport, but even fewer who could mate with and produce mostly human children. And his lover was mostly human – of that he was certain. As he mentally disqualified Sookie from different races of supes known to the world, he intentionally avoided letting himself compare her to one very secretive, very old, very dangerous race that it was believed had left the human world to inhabit their own realm for as long as he could remember.

Rumor had it that after the last Great War this race's populace had dwindled, and they had retreated – by all accounts victoriously – to focus on procreation. It was also believed that once their numbers were vastly improved – their army rebuilt – that they intended to lay siege to the earth, taking no prisoners, absorbing the human realm into their own. When the tale first rumbled through the supernatural world, it was the looming threat on the horizon – the scary story that every supe mom, dad, and maker told their progeny, not to steel them for an unwinnable fight, but as a reminder to live each day as if it was the last. Over time, it had been exaggerated to extremes, and most of the younger vampires didn't believe it at all because they had never had the displeasure of meeting one of these creatures.

Fucking fairies.

He had not seen one in hundreds of years; no one had. And his last experience had not altogether been a pleasant one.

"Fairy," Eric whispered harshly, as if the word was poison in his mouth. He said it so quietly he would not have believed Sookie heard him, except that she flinched – slightly, but noticeably – wavering a bit to regain her balance.

"And this? This is trust between us?" Eric growled at her, allowing the volume of his voice to increase past the level he had intended. How could she not have told him this?

While Sookie had previously felt some pangs of guilt about choosing to hide this from Eric, from the man whom she had not only given her body but also her heart, she was suddenly angered by his outburst – wondering if she would ever be able to stop his feelings from overshadowing her own. She felt like she was boiling inside and she wasn't sure if it was the sudden jump or Eric's indignation, but she began to perspire and feel a bit lightheaded, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"No, no no! You don't get to be all high and mighty about this! You weren't exactly forthcoming about your nature! You remember how I found out? Oh yeah, that's right – your child attacked me!" And then she hardened her emotions, allowing calmness to wash over her to feel one again like herself, hoping she could push it back through the bond to Eric, "I wasn't even sure if you even knew faeries exist. It's not exactly something I'm supposed to be advertising!"

"How can I protect you if I don't know what I'm protecting you from?!"

He pictured a whole host of scenarios that involved Sookie being stolen from Pam's care while out shopping. He chastised himself for believing, as Sookie had when attacked by Pam, that he had understood what monsters she was facing. He felt the slightest bit of relief that she had popped back into his house because with his wards were in place – requiring an explicit invitation for entry – her Fae relatives were no threat to her while she was here.

"I don't need anyone's help staying hidden from the fairies – I've got something you might call their kryptonite."

Eric's jaw slackened and he stared at Sookie with his mouth agape – catching flies, her Gran would have said. As far as he knew there were no fool-proof protections from faeries – not without becoming a shut-in in a well-warded or iron-lined space. In folklore, faeries were only weakened by only a handful of things – lemons and iron. Even then, the possession of either was in no way a surefire guarantee of winning a fight, especially when dealing with an enemy who played dirty like the Fae.

He wondered who had given his lover such foolish notions that she was safe from being captured. Mostly human wouldn't matter to a race hoping to rebuild its stronghold, repopulate its numbers – as far as Eric was concerned, all Sookie would need was a functioning womb to be attractive to her fairy ancestors. It sickened him to think that it was probably how her relatives would see her, as a baby-making machine. She was so much more than her abilities to produce life; she was exceptional – his heart, his everything.

His phone rang, interrupting his train of thoughts. He answered it as he watched Sookie bound out of the room looking like a weary woman on a mission, mouthing the words 'Be right back' as he answered the phone.

"Eric? Eric!" Pam said frantically, "Tell me you have her!"

"Yes, she is here." He replied, altogether too calmly. Reading his emotions in their maker-child bond, Pam thought Eric might somehow be in shock.

"Okay. I have Compton; I am taking him to the cabin. I will explain later, unless you'd rather hear it from your little fairy firsthand."

Eric had told his child everything he knew of fairies; although now he was suspecting that there was very little he knew. Especially since Pam had tasted Sookie, he was not surprised how little time it had taken her to jump the same conclusion as him. But he was shocked to hear the name Bill Compton – what the hell did Bill have to do with any of this? That's when he noticed it, the smell of Sookie's blood in the air.

He was going to kill Bill Compton if he had hurt his bonded.

When Sookie returned to the room swaying a little from side to side, he stared – his bloodlust rising – at the blood dripping down her arm. He grabbed her more forcefully than he intended, growling as his fangs descended. She remained still in his grasp, and he loosened his grip – he was sure of it this time; she was sending him calming feelings across their bond. He wondered if perhaps her quick mastery of the bond was a side effect of her Fae nature.

"What. Happened. To. Your. Arm."

Suddenly, Sookie felt panicked on top of exhausted – and she didn't know why – her body feeling too overheated to contain her composure for one moment longer; she slumped onto the floor, gasping for Eric to call the doctor before she succumbed to the darkness – the green keepsake sweeping across the room to rest under the reading table, clattering as it struck the ground. It cracked open ever so slightly.

* * *

"Northman, you've got to give the girl some space; she's just now coming to."

"Ugh…" Sookie mumbled out, as she groggily rejoined the waking world. Her body felt heavy and sore. Her eyes blinked several times, as she struggled to keep them open. She shifted herself onto her side, a coughing fit overtaking her ability to breathe.

"Do something!"

Eric growled at Doctor Ludwig as he watched his lover writhe in pain, overcome by an unknown assailant – he wondered if perhaps fairies were easily susceptible to human illnesses, shrugging the thought quickly as he remembered Sookie working countless hours, unaffected by the hacking from the filthy patrons of the bar and grill she worked at. No, this was something else; it had to be related to the newest power his lover had acquired. Eric was certain something had sparked this gift in Sookie. If she had been able to teleport before, she would not have suffered his foul treatment of her during the weeks she still believed him to be human. Or gotten attacked by Pam.

His blood.

He froze in a way that only vampires were capable of, afraid that the mix of blood had been fatal for his little fairy. They had shared twice in less than twenty four hours and had a bond that seemed limitless. Though he had not bonded to anyone prior, he suspected the few vampires would be willing if it left them as open to their companion – vampire or human – as he was with Sookie. He did not regret their bond – in fact, he adored that she could influence him as he could her; it meant they were truly equals – but he knew many vampires who would not share his sentiments.

"…Old…She?" was all Eric heard as his mind feared he had somehow destroyed his mate by way of a blood exchange, tamping down any residual anger he had for Sookie for not sharing her fairy nature prior – had he known, he would've insisted that they accessed the risks or sought counsel before completing a bond; she had deprived him of the ability to be deliberate, to be safe. He hoped, if she survived this incident, that they could find some way to become a team, instead of two individuals trying find a way through this weary world together – he knew distinctly that there was a difference between the two.

"NORTHMAN!"

Eric's fangs snapped down as he was pulled from his morose thoughts.

"How. Old. Is. She?"

Dr. Amy Ludwig said her words slowly, hoping this time to reach the nearly catatonic vampire sitting next to her patient, absentmindedly drawing his fingers in circles on the small of the girl's back. Amy couldn't help but be impressed by the care and concern the Viking, Northman, was taking when it came to his…human. She knew otherwise, but still doctor-patient confidentiality echoed through her head.

Eric thought on it. He remembered the night of Sookie's 21st birthday, it was only a short year ago.

* * *

Sookie's eyes were bright as she blew out the candles on the cake her Gran had cooked for her. She threw her arms around her black friend – Tara, Eric thought maybe that was her name – and he had wished the hug had been for him. He followed them as they went to a club to meet others, dancing about the floor as sometimes humans seemed to do after drinking. He watched from a dark corner, glamouring away human women who threw their bodies at him, hoping to lure him into their beds. He had not been abstinent during the time of his Sookie surveillance, but he had no intentions of sullying her birthday with his own carnal fling.

Sookie became more and more intoxicated as the night wore on, easily undone by shots and drinks her friends pushed on her. Eric knew from his nightly visits to her that Sookie was not an underage drinker, and therefore her tolerance to alcohol was rather low. He worried for her, hating that he worried for any human, but never letting her leave his sight.

She stumbled into the bathroom, and Eric spied a male hovering after her, making moves to join her in the single stall room. As the man tried to push in the door – overtly excited to find that the lock had not been engaged – Eric appeared at his side, pulling Sookie's would-be attacker back with all the force he had. Eric knew instantly that he had broken the man's shoulder and he didn't give one shit – this man deserved death. The club was so loud that no one heard the piercing yowl of pain. After glamouring the man to follow him into the alley, Eric delivered his swift demise, glad that he could save the world – and Sookie – from predators like this one.

Eric continued to stand guard over Sookie until she was returned home safely, paying the taxicab that drove her from Shreveport all the home to Bon Temps after her friends somehow went off in their own directions. Eric flew behind the cab the whole way – just in case.

* * *

"She's twenty-two. Twenty-two years old."

"That's too soon... this is too soon," Ludwig said quietly but without thinking.

"What does that mean?!" He growled at her, jumping from Sookie's side to face down the 3'3" tall doctor.

"Do not try to intimidate me, VAMPIRE!"

Ludwig was overcome, belying her normally professional behavior; she did not like to refer to her clients by their race, but in this case she was too angry to be cordial.

Eric understood that he had rattled the doctor, allowed his fury to overcome his sense of propriety – Dr. Ludwig was trying to help. He wondered if she knew more than she let on, and he felt a swell a pride that instead of cow-towing to him, she had stood up to him. He realized instantly, recalling that she had sampled Sookie's blood after Pam's attack, that Ludwig knew his lover was part-Fae – and he was impressed how devoted she was to the confidentiality she was charged to maintain with her patients.

"She is part Fae." Eric's tone was calm and confident; he did not want there to be any question of his certainty.

"That she is" is all Amy Ludwig said in response, beginning her ministrations, sticking an IV into Sookie's arm. Leaving Eric, once again, with his mouth agape, waiting for the doctor to explain whether or not his bonded would survive the night.

* * *

When Sookie disappeared, both vampires had frozen from shock, doubting the veracity of what they had seen with their own eyes.

Pam's age afforded her many advantages over Bill Compton, such as stealth and speed. She opened her purse, donned leather gloves, and threw silver handcuffs over his wrists before he could blink – her maker had always taught her to leave the house prepared for a fight. His skin bubbled and sizzled at the touch of Pam's constraints and he howled in pain. Pam could not fathom why the Queen believed that Compton was worthy despite his weak nature.

Pam was glad that Compton had been foolish enough to confront her in an alley – away from prying eyes – as she dragged him down the same alley to the parking garage and her car. She was in knots, fearing she had failed her maker and Sookie, wondering how a maker's command would work in such an instance; but she knew that securing the other witness to Sookie's magician act would be paramount to Sookie's continued survival – if she was safe at all.

Just for good measure, Pam broke Compton's neck.

It wouldn't kill him, but it would disable him, force unconsciousness, for a short time, as she whipped out her phone to call her maker. Eric said that Sookie was with him, and Pam wondered why he seemed so unaffected by this turn of events – could vampires go into shock? She shared with him that she was taking Compton to his cabin – because it was remote and no one would hear Bill's screams – before letting Eric know she would explain later, if need be. She commented, in a way that only her maker would understand, that she knew his bonded was a fairy, and therefore of the highest priority for protection. They hung up without ceremony, as they always did.

Pam continued to drive at high speeds, trying to beat Bill's ability to heal, until she reached the cabin. He began to come around once she pulled into the gravel drive, asking what had happened to him, and she laughed – what a young vampire he was.

Bill tried to struggle as Pam led him inside, digging the silver farther into his wrists, down to the bone. Pam pushed Bill into a wooden chair, pulling a set of silver shackles from a nearby armoire to bind his ankles. With her victim secured, Pam stepped back and admired her work, smiling at how easily she had dispatched the vampire her Queen thought was so 'special."

"You will regret this Pam, as will your maker."

Bill spit out. He hated that he had writhed about, dulling the smell of Sookie's blood under his fingernails. He had never realized her blood would smell so sweet and intoxicating; although he was disappointed to scent that it was no longer pure, and also mixed with the Viking's. His Sookie had been fed blood and deflowered by the oldest vampire in the state – one he had no respect for. She must have been tricked! Bill regretted, in this moment, choosing silver; he should've grabbed the 7-year old child and ran.

"Oh Bill, Bill Bill Bill. You are not in a position to make threats."

Bill was not, but he still knew something that Pam and her maker obviously did not, and he was hoping the news might incur the wrath of a certain Viking warrior. Yes, things were looking up for Bill Compton. Now all he had to do was figure out how he could kill the oldest thing in the state of Louisiana – Eric – after getting him to kill the oldest vampire in the Americas.

"It is not a threat to tell you Ms. Stackhouse has been claimed. It is the truth."

Pam's right eyebrow cocked up at Compton's words. He had no need to be truthful, not yet anyways, but she was still intrigued. Plus, Eric would appreciate any interrogation details she received prior to his arrival – although she worried he might not join any time soon as his feelings were… confused and concerned.

"And what the fuck do you mean by that Mr. Compton? I have had her blood; she is mine."

Bill Compton began to laugh, heartily and eerily, as he himself accepted that all parties involved with Miss Stackhouse were fucked to some extent – Pam, her maker, and himself – because of the order that had come from above.

"Do you know of the Queen's impending marriage to Russell Edgington, the King of Mississippi?"

"Of course! None of us are shy to the boon this could mean for Louisiana." Pam paused, the gears turning in her head. Compton interrupted her before she could interject her next question.

"King Edgington has asked – by name – that Queen Sophie Anne turn over Miss Sookie Stackhouse as part of their marital contract."

If Pam could've fainted, she would have, but instead she took the opportunity to break Compton's neck once again before pulling out her phone to dial her maker. This was news that could not wait.


	20. The Depth of Still Waters

Northman was jumping in his skin, as he clutched Sookie's hand to his chest, whispering to her in what Dr. Ludwig presumed was his native tongue. Sookie was slipping in and out of consciousness, sweating profusely despite the IV in her arm designed to help lower her body temperature. The doctor had still not told Eric what was wrong – rifling through books she had produced from her bag – although he had his own theories; hypotheses he hoped would be refuted. How could he live with himself if his own blood killed the woman he loved, his bonded? He had not known there could be complications, but that did little to soothe the guilt that was echoing through his mind.

An annoying ringtone broke the silence. Eric ignored it – Pam.

The phone flipped the call over to voicemail, and then it rung again. Ignored again. But Pam was nothing if not insistent and Eric answered the third call with a snarl.

"What?!"

Pam disregarded her maker's tone – she could feel the turmoil coursing through him and while she did not want to interrupt what she expected was a difficult moment, she would be remiss if she did not share the intel she had received from Compton. She hadn't even fucking tortured him yet! Imagine what secrets he would spill once she inflicted her Tiffanys collection on him. It was silver, of course, and she couldn't wear it – since silver was like poison to vampires – but it was Tiffanys! – she rationalized to herself. As a true fashionista, Pam felt obliged to buy piece after piece just for the sake of posterity.

"Russell wants Queen Sophie Anne to give him Sookie as part of their marital contract. Compton is… indisposed at the moment. There's so much he hasn't explained; I assume I have the Sheriff's permission to torture the Queen's procurer?"

"Understood. And yes, do just as I taught you Pam; we need to know everything he knows. Oh, and Pam? I saw the marks on Sookie's arms – if that was indeed the work of Compton, make sure you keep him alive because I am going to FUCKING END HIM!"

Eric dropped the phone and it clattered to the floor. He regained his composure, as Sookie – even in her debilitated state – found a way to send him wave after wave of calm. He sat down at her side and resumed his whisperings, lightly trailing his fingertips across the bones of her cheeks and down her jaw. He gathered Sookie in his arms and gazed at her longingly – never in his life had he expected to feel the things he felt for Sookie.

"Northman."

The little doctor tried to interrupt, but Eric was too lost in himself to respond.

"NORTHMAN!"

He turned and hissed at her, clutching Sookie to his chest, hoping his cold skin might bring his lover some respite in her overheated state. Her breathing steadied a bit as he drew her in.

"You've got two choices right now, you can keep making googly-eyes at her and let her die or you can listen to what I have to say!"

Eric shot Ludwig a dirty look, letting his fangs peek out from under his sneer, but he nodded for her to continue.

"Faeries are strange creatures, and not one book details everything about them – secretive bastards – but one thing is very clear, their bodies are not primed to intake magic until they reach the age of twenty-five. She's too young; her body cannot handle what is happening to it. As best I can tell, the magicks are burning her from the inside. I'd like to tell you it doesn't get worse, but it does.

You said she teleported from almost 20 miles away? – that should've been impossible. Most Fae can only teleport one mile, maybe two, when their powers first develop. So not only does she have them too soon, but hers have been kicked into overdrive. Vampires and faeries are natural enemies so there's not a lot of literature on co-mingling of blood, but I did find one very obscure case involving a faery-vampire bond…"

Eric hung his head and allowed one single bloody tear to escape his usually placid countenance; he was right, his blood caused this.

"…the blood doesn't mix the same, as it does with humans. In this case study, the male faery's magicks were unaffected by the first exchange of blood; but after the second, his body seemingly revolted against the entire process, throwing his magicks into hyperdrive. He was older, already of age, but the symptoms, at least as the book details them, were quite the same as your Sookie's. You have exchanged with her twice, correct?"

"Yes," He said softly, allowing another stray tear to fall, "What happened to the male faery? How was he saved? You said she could be saved."

"A third exchange, a permanent bond. I'm not sure what you know of bonds, but after a third exchange, they cannot be undone. They tie the two's life forces together. One of you cannot die without bringing the other along into the underworld. The case notes say that it was believed the faery's nature ceased its fight against the vampire blood once they had become true equals, bonded mates. They owned each other in a sense."

They were already equals in Eric's eyes, but he had no issues proving it with blood.

"Then that is what we will do."

"You need to be sure. Faeries may live for thousands and thousands of years, but Sookie will not…"

Eric cut her off, narrowing his eyes at the little doctor. He did not appreciate having the veracity of his decisions questioned. Plus, he was still hoping that Sookie would warm to idea of becoming a vampire.

"DO NOT presume to tell me my own business!" He growled at the little doctor, "It is MY life and therefore MY decision. And if you breathe one word of this to Sookie," His fangs dropped with a loud click, "I WILL drain every last drop of blood from your body."

Doctor Ludwig, feeling properly chastised, nodded silently.

"Sookie…"

Eric whispered, trying to rouse her without startling her. Eric did not want to bite Sookie without warning – he would never do that to her, never risk causing her to panic as she had when she relived Pam's attack.

"Hmmmm?"

Sookie's eyes felt heavy, and she did not know what was going on. She had heard her name a couple of times, but all the words were like soup to her – loose and fluid. She was trying – trying so hard – to control herself, to remain conscious, but her body no longer felt like her own. She was hot; she was cold – if she had to admit it to herself, she felt like she was dying. But with much effort, she managed to open her eyes, happy to see they were staring into the beautiful oceans of her lover's.

"Min älskare, you are dying, but the doctor believes that if we exchange blood once more that you will be saved."

Eric shot a cold look over at Dr. Ludwig, indicating that she was not to elaborate on his explanation. She nodded to Sookie her agreement with his words.

"I need…to bite you?" She sputtered out, trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore the pain radiating throughout her body.

"Yes, I hope you can forgive my selfishness, but I do not want to live without you." Eric said, with utter sincerity in his voice – how could he live without his heart? It meant nothing that he had done it before; he never wanted to do it again.

He cupped Sookie's cheek and positioned her head against his neck. She bit with more force than he had expected from her in her weakened state, and she sucked greedily at the wound. He watched her pallid coloring return to a rosy hue before sinking his own fangs into her soft flesh. Two draws of her essence and he felt it – an explosion; a white light engulfing them before scattering out of the room in little wisps and bursts.

* * *

Pam was really enjoying her torture session with the infamous Bill Compton.

She was surprised that 15 years in silver had seemingly done nothing to increase his tolerance for pain. He sang like a canary before she had even had the chance to place the silver ball gag into his mouth. She couldn't believe that anyone thought that Bill had the emotional fortitude to handle being a vampire. He was as spineless as he was foolish; little did he know that how much or how little he talked would have no effect on the amount of pain she intended to inflict. She hated him – always had – and he had hurt Sookie; if Eric had not requested the pleasure, Pam would have jumped at the chance to deliver him the true death.

After Compton admitted that he had destroyed Pam's paperwork before it reached the Queen, Pam proceeded to shove the silver ball gag into his mouth. His eyes widened in shock and he attempted to wail and scream against the metal as it burned and sizzled.

"Oh Bill, surely you didn't think I'd let you leave here without any burn marks? Where would be the fun in that?"

He muffled something that Pam assumed was meant to be disrespectful. Idiot, she thought, what part of him thought it was a good idea to piss her off while she was within arm's reach of a silver tipped whip? She loved this cabin; Eric really had decked it out with all the accruements necessary for a wildly satisfying round of "filet the enemy".

"What was that Bill?" Pam said, cupping her hand to her ear to pretend she had not heard him, "You really must stop mumbling; it is so unbecoming of someone in your position _under_ the Queen."

Pam knew that the Queen preferred women to men – from experience – but Compton definitely didn't act like he had any balls, so perhaps Sophie Anne had made an exception? Pam had never understood why Sophie Anne thought Bill was so amazing – sure, he could find a tasty human, but other than that he was just one big old sycophant. Pam had never liked Bill, not one bit.

Over fifty years ago, Bill had meandered his way into Area Five, all high on himself and acting like he was some big celebrity because all of the monarchies had been jumping through hoops to try to get him to join their kingdoms. Pam hated him instantly – she never cared for anyone who acted too big for their britches. He had quickly turned hateful apathy into revulsion with an offer to let her service him punctuated by an ungentlemanly grab of her ass.

That day, Bill Compton learned how painful it could be to lose and regrow a limb; Pam took his right hand from him with one single swish of Eric's sword. Good thing her maker always had a sharp weapon close at hand, she thought as his amputated limb fell and bounced under a table. Bill cried and cried, running to Sophie Anne like a child runs to their mother tattle-taling that he had been hurt by Pam the meany. But Pam was not punished, of course – he was. Sophie Anne told Bill, in no uncertain terms, that she found his behavior abhorrent and that such misdeeds were not tolerated in her kingdom, taking his other hand to show how serious she was. Pam was not sure what he had done to be silvered for the past 15 years, but knowing Sophie Anne, she imagined he had, once again, shown what a disgusting pig he was.

After a few more hours of skin-sizzling fun, Pam found out that she was very wrong – the real reason was much more disturbing than she could've ever prepared herself for. She stepped into a steaming shower, scrubbing hard at her skin to remove Compton's blood – maybe a little harder than necessary. Pam decided she would suggest to Eric that Sookie be given the honor of killing Bill; she deserved her revenge for all of the horrors he had inflicted upon the Stackhouse family.

* * *

Tara Thornton could not believe that her friend Sookie was alive – alive and looking liked she'd been living in a spa for the past few weeks! She tried to get Sookie to come with her to the police station to clear Sam's name – at least of her own murder – but Sookie mumbled something she couldn't understand that sounded an awful lot like "Jason" before she turned and walked away.

Tara regretted telling her about Jason the way she had, but Sookie deserved to know what was going on – what she had been missing while she was staying with "friends." Tara couldn't understand why Sookie would lie to her like that – she didn't have any other friends, or at least she hadn't thought so. It had shocked her to see Sookie out shopping with a blonde woman who looked like a freaking supermodel.

She didn't mind that Sookie had walked away; she was just too damn happy to see her friend was alive.

Tara hadn't believed for one minute that Sam had murdered Sookie – although she was less sure about Jason. Sam had always thought Sookie hung the moon and everyone knew it. He gazed at her and watched her every move while she waited on tables and slung beers for the rednecked residents of Bon Temps. Of course now, the police were trying to say that his crush on Sookie was nothing short of a full-out obsession and that he had killed her in a jealous rage, snapping at her silent rejection of his affections. Tara thought that sounded like the biggest bullshit she had ever heard in her whole life.

* * *

"Sam!"

Tara squealed, embracing Sam by the arms through the bars of his cell. She herself had grown close to him in these past couple of weeks – they had grieved for Sookie together and, with each passing day, she was finding she liked him more and more. The Bon Temps jailhouse was pretty flexible with their visiting hours, and Tara was glad she lived in a small town – she imagined big cities would never let her come by at all hours of the night to see a man being held on murder charges. It also helped that she knew the entire force by name, even if it was because she's spent a couple drunken nights sleeping it off housed by the very same justice system.

"Tara, I didn't think you were gonna come by again today. What's up, kid? How are you?"

She hated when he called her "kid" – he was only a couple of years older than her.

"Sam…" She paused, not knowing how he was going to take the news – especially since she wasn't going to be able produce Sookie to prove she was alive, "I fucking saw Sookie. Today. At the mall."

"Oh, hon, it happens like that sometimes, when you're missin' someone so hard. Sooks gone Tara, and that's just somethin' were gonna hafta accept."

"No, Sam! I fucking saw her! She's alive! She was with some fucking woman I've never seen before. They were out shoppin' like nothing had fucking happened!"

"What're you talkin' about? What woman?" Sam responded, believing Tara because he knew he hadn't killed Sookie and because he went to bed every night on his cold metal cot praying to God above that she was still alive. It felt like his prayers had been answered.

"Ummm… She was blonde, leggy, blood red lips. Dressed to the fuck-ing nines, Sam! Like she was about to walk the fucking runway somewhere. Oh! And pale, really seemed fucking pale standing next to Sooks. I think her named started with a P… Paula? Pat? Pam? Pam! Yeah, that was her name – Pam! She sound familiar to you, Sam? You seen her around?"

Sam knew exactly who Tara was talking about, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Nah, Tara, but I don't ever make it real far outside of Bon Temps, especially not these days," He said, chuckling a little at his own joke, "I'm glad to hear Sooks is alive Tara, no matter who she's with."

"I tried to get her to come Sam, but I kinda dropped the bomb about Jase, and she didn't take it well."

"Thanks for the help kid, but there's still two more murder charges. Knocking off one won't get me walkin' outta here any time soon. Give Sook some time; she's a good girl – she'll do the right thing, just as soon as she gets her head back about her."

* * *

Tara left not long after, reminding Sam that she'd be back in the morning after she helped get Merlotte's open. He was lucky to have a friend like her to help keep his business afloat during all of this messiness.

He placed a quick call to his lawyer; there was much to tell him. It was late, and he got the voicemail, leaving a message he was sure Mr. Catalaides would be eager to play back.

"Desmond? It's Sam. I know you've been lookin' for her and I found her; Sookie, I mean. I know where she is! She's with Pam, the child of the vampire Sheriff of Area Five, Eric Northman. Tara saw them together out by the shops. I'm sure you've heard his reputation, that he's as ruthless as they come; well, his child's known as a Grade A bitch. She wears silver-tipped heels just to fuck with her own kind. I'm just sick knowing she's being brainwashed by those bloodsuckers. Go save our girl, Desmond; if anyone can do it, you can."


	21. FLASHBACK, Under the Blood Red Moon

**A/N:** **FLASHBACKS**

* * *

 ****Part 1, A Couple of Years Before Chapter 1****

"What exactly did your grandmother tell you?"

Fintan said, eyeing Sookie curiously. Adele had allowed him to come over so that Sookie could ask him questions about the charm he had given her the night before, the green compact she was holding carefully in her lap.

When he first arrived, Sookie had answered the door, but was quiet – she stole only one glance in his direction before looking away. Adele insisted that Sookie mind her manners while she ushered her granddaughter and Fintan over to the tan-colored couch to sit next to each other. Adele then excused herself and went into the kitchen. After a few moments of awkward silence, Sookie rose to cross the room, pacing as she asked him a flurry of questions – about fairies, about himself, about her telepathy.

Fintan had only met his granddaughter the night before, but he could tell that although she had had a hard life, she was a still loving, caring, and ultimately good-hearted young woman. He found he was amazed by her, admired her.

Sookie had more light in her than any faery he had ever met and it would serve her well once her powers came in. Fintan could tell, given the intensity of her spark, that she would in fact be very powerful. He was counting down the days, even though it was five years away. Adele had agreed that Fintan could become a permanent fixture in Sookie's life once her faery side matured, and he was eager to train her how to wield her magic.

"Gran said it's a love token, and that y'all made it by tying your lives together to protect us from the fairies."

Sookie said slowly, trying not to leave out any of the brief explanation her Gran had given her. She was grateful she could ask Fintan about all of it – she felt, even though she trusted her Gran inherently, that she had held back, been a little too cloak and dagger about what the heck the little green compact really was, and how it actually worked.

"Ah…my dear, it is much more than that."

Fintan knew he would incur the wrath of Adele – because he had told her some little white lies and she was only a room away, surely listening at the door – but Sookie needed to know the truth. She had to understand and appreciate the cluviel dor, the cost of its magic; if she used it by accident… he refused to take that risk.

"Sweet child, come sit down next to me; there is much I need to share with you about the gift I gave you the other night."

Sookie crossed the room to sit on the couch next to a man she had recently learned was her blood relative, her grandfather. It was awkward, discovering that her life had, to an extent, been a lie. She sighed, steeling herself for what she worried would be more bad news.

"The gift I gave you has been yours since you were a young child, although it was previously kept out of your possession. It is called a cluviel dor. While imbued with the most potent of faery magic, it appears to be nothing more than a useless trinket to someone who does not possess the faery spark. Because you have the spark, its magic is visible to you, and because it belongs to you, it hides you from all faeries – like the cloak in that movie with the boy who is a wizard."

Fintan very much enjoyed human movies about magic.

"Your grandmother was correct; we created this with love, but it was a bit more complicated than that. Cluviel dors are the product of a great forfeiture… no, let me back up a bit. Faeries do not live forever, but our lifespans are nearly immeasurable. We are not immune to death, but it does not find our kind easily – and often we live what feels like forever. We covet our lives like the greedy covet their money – does that make sense?"

Sookie nodded. She had no idea that Fintan could have lived for thousands of years, but she understood what he meant.

"All magic comes with a price – never forget that Sookie – and this item was no exception. Cluviel dors contain the most powerful magicks in existence, and it is by design that the it shields you from the faeries – even when it is not on your person – because a faery would quite literally kill to get their hands on one. They are rare, extremely so, because of what it costs to make them – a price that few faeries are willing to pay.

Only a handful have been made because they require a sacrifice – and quite a large one. Every faery has the capacity within them to create a cluviel dor, and while it does not have to be forged by love, one had never been made for any other reason.

You see, I am only allowed to find you and it, despite its magical cloak against faeries, because your gift contains a piece of me. No… it is best if I explain it this way…

When a creature of almost infinite age – like a faery – ties his essence to another but of fewer years – like a human – he is giving away his most coveted possession for someone else – for love – sacrificing himself in a sense. This noble act captures the attentions and sympathies of the Gods. In that moment, they smile on him and the most powerful of magicks coalesce with the sacrificed piece of his lifeforce and transfer into an object – a cluviel dor."

Tears glistened in Sookie's eyes and she thrust the green compact she had been thumbing back towards him, bidding him to take it.

"Please take it back; there has to be another way."

Fintan sighed and closed his hand over hers, placing her hand, with the charm, back in her lap. He continued softly.

"No, it is yours, and it is imperative that you know how to avoid activating it. The cluviel dor is not intended to be a cloaking device – that is merely a happy side effect of its magic. At its heart, each cluviel dor contains the power to grant a wish. Once a wish had been made, the object is consumed and all of its magic disappears – including its cloaking abilities. If you are holding it, do not even _think_ the words 'I wish' unless you have no other choice – even then you must be careful what you wish for because you could change the entire world without meaning to."

Fintan watched as Sookie dropped the object and buried her face in her hands, crying. She wept for his loss, and he was moved by the depth of her emotion for someone she had only met the night before. He reached out and patted Sookie's hand with his.

"My dear, do not fret about it so; it is already done, and even if I could undo the magic, I would not. Your grandmother is my heart and I do not want to live one day in this world if she is not in it. It is a gift that we made out of our love for each other and for you, and you _deserve_ this gift – never doubt that. Had I a thousand lives, I would give them all to keep you safe and Adele happy. It was an easy choice, and one I will never come to regret."

* * *

Fintan waited for Sookie to head off to work before phoning his demon friend, Desmond Catalaides. He asked him to come over so they could talk about Sookie.

"I'm so mad at you right now."

Adele said, as she swept out from the kitchen with a pitcher of homemade sweet tea in her hands; she had been eavesdropping from the other room, listening intently as Fintan explained things to Sookie that he had not told her. She had not expected that Fintan would make her granddaughter cry; she would not have encouraged the conversation – her Sookie had already been through so much in the past 24 hours.

"You had no right, Fintan! You upset her; you scared her!"

Desmond had not yet arrived, and Fintan was counting down the minutes – until then he was subject to the entirety of Adele's ire.

"She needed to know, Adele. You cannot keep her in the dark about everything. You do not know that she would not have made some silly wish off-hand while holding the cluviel dor – do not forget, the faeries will take her the second they find her. She has to know how to protect herself, Adele!"

Adele fell silent for a moment; he was right, but that did nothing to abate her anger. Or her guilt; she knew he could have lived a long time, but not basically forever.

"If you had told me… I would not have let… IF YOU HAD TOLD ME… You _never_ said it was a wish, that we were handing her a _magical freaking bomb_ – that you GAVE UP _ETERNITY_ for us!"

Fintan responding, shaking his head slowly, "I want for you what you want for her – happiness, and it's made you happy, to know she will be safe. I know it has. And the cluviel dor does just as I promised, it cloaks her from the faeries. But yes, I did not tell you its real power or the depth of my sacrifice. I am sorry I hid these truths from you, but I love you so dearly," Fintan moved towards her and cupped her cheek affectionately, "Can you understand I've done this all because of the love I have for you?"

"You gave up forever for me, for us?" she said quietly, tears falling from her eyes as the weight of his actions became real to her.

"Yes, my love… Don't cry, don't cry… Shhhh…" He enclosed his arms around her and whispered into her hair, "You are my everything; my heart. You have given me everything – a family, love, peace. What I told Sookie was the truth – I do not want to live one moment without you in my life; it was an easy decision for me. The years before, when you were still with Earl – those were the hardest out of my 700 some-odd years. It was then that I realized the only times I had ever felt alive were the times I had spent with you."

"They were hard for me to, but I had a duty; I made a vow…"

He pulled back and raised a finger to her lips to ask for her silence.

"I never once begrudged you your ideals or beliefs. You are a great woman, Adele; and an amazing mother and grandmother. You are always doing the right thing when it comes to Sookie. She has a light like no one I've ever met – that is not the faery in her. That is the Adele Stackhouse in her."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Sweetheart, our Sookie is as strong as they come and five years from now, she will be a force to be reckoned with. She is going to have so much power, she will not even need that silly charm to protect her," Adding quickly as he watched Adele frowning at his words, "But it still will; it always will."

"Hello?" Desmond shouted from the foyer, having knocked for several minutes with no answer.

"Plus, with Desmond as her godfather, she'll be well-taken care of for the rest of her life. You know that he has already promised to do everything in his power to shield her from the supernatural world after our deaths, treat her like his own. Do not worry, my love; no harm is going to come to our baby girl."

* * *

 ****Part 2, Not So Long Before Chapter 1****

Sookie never saw Fintan again after he had explained the cluviel dor, but little did she know he had not left her life until he was forced to.

* * *

Fintan knew that a vampire had been silently stalking Sookie for the past two years, and he liked it – more than he wanted to admit.

Over two years ago, Fintan had discovered that a vampire had tracked Sookie home from work, lurking out in the woods behind the farmhouse. It was the same vampire that Sookie had introduced herself to just the night before. Sookie was inside, which meant she was safe – mostly. Although to this day Fintan did not know why, he had fought against his baser instincts and left the vampire his undead life. Instead he chose to cloak himself – and his scent – to watch the vampire who eyed his granddaughter with so much interest, following the vampire each night as he shadowed Sookie.

The vampire never noticed Fintan, and he was not sure if he should count his blessings or fear that much more for his granddaughter, who was the sole focus of a predator. But the fear had dissipated quickly.

Over the next months, Fintan witnessed the vampire protect Sookie repeatedly from all sorts of troubles she inadvertently wandered into. The vampire never once approached Sookie, and Fintan found it curious because although the vampire seemed enthralled by her, he acted as if he was very much afraid of her. Fintan had taken to calling Sookie's vampire 'the Silent Knight' – because he did not know the vampire's name and because that's what he was, an invisible force guarding her at night from the ills of an unforgiving world.

Secretly, Fintan began to hope that the Silent Knight would continue to watch over Sookie after he and Adele died. They had agreed that Desmond would assume responsibility for Sookie's protections – and it was true that he loved her like a daughter – but Fintan had grown to like the Silent Knight. He was strong; he was scary, and he was obviously was in love with Sookie, so much so that he denied his own vampiric nature. Fintan was surprised and impressed that the Silent Knight could exert an unbelievable amount of control over himself, act as though Sookie's sweet-smelling faery blood was no temptation at all.

But it seemed the Silent Knight had nothing but surprises in store for Fintan.

When the Silent Knight killed one of his own kind, who had wandered into the woods outside the farmhouse, Fintan almost dropped his cloaking – he could barely contain his shock, or his awe. After that, Fintan didn't follow the two of them as closely; he felt comfortable leaving Sookie's care to the Silent Knight, confident he would keep her from harm.

It did not escape Fintan's attention that he was entrusting the safety of his precious kin to his people's enemy. It was an odd world, Fintan often thought to himself, getting odder still.

In the midst of it all, Adele had somehow found her own vampire to keep her company when Sookie wasn't home – a tall blonde with a sharp tongue named Pam. Fintan hadn't met Pam, but he watched her with Adele the same way he had watched the Silent Knight with Sookie. He could see that they had a true friendship; there was no deception there. Fintan laughed at his own previous misgivings about vampires. Perhaps they were like faeries or demons – not each and every one of them was bad at the core.

Fintan and Adele never mentioned the two vampires to Desmond, not because they were hiding it per say, but because it never crossed their minds – it was as if the vampires had become part of their everyday lives. Fintan thought it might be time to tell Sookie about vampires, especially since Pam had mentioned to Adele that in a couple of years vampires intended to reveal themselves anyways.

But Adele staunchly held onto her belief that it was best only to tell Sookie what was absolutely necessary. She stated plainly that if the Silent Knight was content to hide from Sookie, as he had been for two years, then it was proof-positive that even the vampire agreed Sookie did not need to know who or what he was. Fintan could not think of a single counter argument, and so he let it go. His family was safe, and he was happy.

* * *

Fintan had always paid too much attention to Sookie and Gran and too little to Jason, his non-magical grandson who did not live at the farmhouse – ignoring him almost entirely. It had completely escaped his notice that Sookie's brother had become a drug addict and a thief, stealing not only from his family, but from other junkies.

When Fintan sniffed out a vial of vampire blood in the house, he didn't even think of Jason. He assumed the blood belonged to one of the two vampires with an invitation to Adele's home. He didn't understand vampire rituals, but it felt high-handed to him like his family was being claimed – the stench would have been noticeable to supernaturals even a mile away. He trusted both vampires, but in his opinion, scenting the house was going too far.

Fintan took the small vial in hand and enclosed it inside Sookie's cluviel dor – magically blocking all traces of the smell – before returning the small compact to its hiding spot behind the dresser. Adele agreed that it would be best to confront the two vampires in a couple hours when the sun went down, and Fintan could not contain his excitement that he was finally going to meet the Silent Knight, even if he wished it was under better circumstances.

But time was not on their side – Jason's enemies were already en route to the farmhouse with Sookie unconscious and locked in the trunk, searching for the very thing Fintan had too cleverly hidden – and before the sun set in Bon Temps, Fintan and Adele were granted entry to the Summerlands, the faery afterlife.

* * *

 **A/N: I may explain later why Fintan was not able to save Adele, but honestly, it's not a scene I'm eager to revisit...**


	22. Storms Rumbling on the Horizon

**A/N: FYI, a common thread in all of my stories is that people make decisions for better or for worse based on limited information that isn't always accurate.**

* * *

Desmond Cataliades played Sam Merlotte's voicemail back at least five times, not because he had missed any part of the message, but because it was all too damn funny to him. Of course Sookie was with Eric Northman; why hadn't the thought crossed his mind sooner? But there was an easy answer to that question – because Cataliades had believed that Sam had her. Desmond had spent the last couple of weeks trying to lull Sam into a false sense of security in hopes that he would slip up and accidentally confess to Sookie's kidnapping.

Honestly, Desmond had been growing tired of Sam's protestations of his innocence; he knew firsthand that Merlotte was not as squeaky clean as he pretended to be.

Despite having no formal criminal record, Sam Merlotte had garnered quite the reputation in the supernatural world for having an uncontrollable temper that usually manifested through his fists. There were even rumors that he had killed one of his lovers when he discovered she was grifting him – Sam hadn't been charged, but as a lawyer, Desmond understood that sometimes the burden of proof worked in the perpetrator's favor. It didn't help that Sam had lied to Desmond – not remembering, or maybe not knowing, that all demons possessed the gift of telepathy – telling his lawyer that despite his ability to shift into any form that he had never left his jail cell. Sam's thoughts were a little snarly, but it didn't prevent Desmond from seeing in them that Sam transformed into a fly to leave every night. Desmond was sure the Sam was leaving to go check on his captive, Sookie.

Desmond had hoped that if he said Sookie's name enough times that Sam's mind would show him where he was holding her hostage. And while Sam's thoughts hadn't betrayed a location, he had seen enough flashes to know that the police weren't wrong – Sam definitely had a perverse obsession with Sookie Stackhouse.

But Sam wasn't the only one.

Desmond had recently reviewed a marriage contract for the vampire Queen of Louisiana – Sophie Anne LeClerq – that had contained a very interesting condition involving his goddaughter. It wasn't common, or good form, to call out humans by name in a vampire contract for marital alignment, but there was Sookie's name in black and white on the paperwork in front of him. He would've never believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

Desmond didn't know how the vampire King of Mississippi – Russell Edgington – found out about Sookie, but there was no denying that somehow she had managed to pique his interest, that he wanted something – and Desmond suspected it wasn't her blood the King was clamoring for. The language was very vague in that paragraph of the contract – so ill-defined in fact that Desmond had recommended Sophie Anne threaten to deny the marriage proposal altogether if it was not clarified.

There had been several sections of the contract where he had made the same suggestion, not to throw her off the trail, but because the proposal was that bad.

Desmond knew there was a zero percent chance that Sophie Anne would sign the agreement as is – she maybe wasn't so great with money, but she was nobody's fool. In his opinion, the contract was a joke and a smokescreen for something else; Edgington's demands were ludicrous – under the current terms, Louisiana would essentially be royally fucked.

Plus, legally it would put Queen Sophie Anne in a very precarious position.

Vampire monarchs had no rights to the humans in their states, except for their own listed pets or companions – and even then, the registry was a legal formality meant to stop unnecessary violence and preserve a vampire's food source, not to turn the vampire court into some sort of human-swapping marketplace. Sophie Anne could no more "gift" Sookie to Edgington than she could Desmond, not without risking her true death.

It gave him only the tiniest bit of respite, barely enough to calm his anxieties, because as far as Desmond could tell Sookie was shaping up to be the equivalent of supernatural catnip.

As if one vampire in his goddaughter's life wasn't enough, Sookie actually had two. The second being Eric Northman, the only vampire Desmond had ever liked or had respect for – approved of.

Adele and Fintan had never mentioned any vampires to him, but of course Desmond had noticed the void canvassing the grounds during one of his infrequent visits to the house on Hummingbird Lane. Maybe Fintan didn't know who the vampire was – faeries didn't exactly seek out the vampire hierarchy – but Desmond recognized the blonde 6'4" vampire instantly. It was none other than the fucking badass vampire Sheriff of Area Five, one of Desmond's supernatural clients.

Desmond found he was happy at the turn of events. The Viking was as honorable as anyone he had ever met – and he didn't see the harm in ignoring the interest this particular vampire took in his goddaughter. If the Viking _had_ wanted to hurt Sookie, he would've ripped her apart the second he laid eyes on her, especially given the intoxicating scent of her blood. Yet, she had remained beautifully in one piece; it was enough for Desmond to believe Sookie was safe – it met his burden of proof.

Desmond was careful not to disclose this information to Fintan – who would surely tell Adele; the Sheriff had a reputation that neither would have been able to stomach or abide. He couldn't risk them interfering; Sookie needed a vampire bodyguard as strong and principled as the Viking. Desmond was just glad he wasn't having to pay Eric to do it; as far as he was concerned, this arrangement was saving him a ton of money.

Money that Desmond had paid out of pocket and in spades for other Stackhouse child, Jason.

* * *

Desmond knew that Fintan did not intentionally ignore Jason, but he focused so much on Sookie and Adele that he could see little else. It didn't exactly help that Fintan was never really around Jason because Desmond had encouraged his fairy friend to find the young Stackhouse male a new adoptive family at the age of ten, not even a year after the death of his parents.

Desmond was shocked when Sookie told him of the hole she had spied in her brother's mind, the missing pieces from the night Michelle and Corbett Stackhouse lost their lives. Jason had clearly been glamoured, and while Desmond felt for the boy, he could not help but regard him as a ticking time bomb – armed to potentially destroy everyone the demon lawyer held close to his heart.

He had suggested, much to Adele's chagrin, it might be best for Jason to live with family friends – the Fortenberrys – who had expressed an interest in raising Jason after Michelle and Corbett's death. Jason was excited at the prospect of living with his best friend Hoyt; he didn't enjoy being around his 7-year old sister, and was eager to get away from her. After several heated arguments with Adele, Desmond's logic finally wore her down and he drafted the custodial paperwork to name Maxine Fortenberry as Jason's legal guardian. Jason still spent every Sunday supper over at the Stackhouse residence since Adele had refused vehemently to extricate Jason from their lives altogether.

Desmond felt vindicated, but somehow also a little guilty.

For the rest of Jason's childhood, Desmond secretly siphoned some of his own money to the Fortenberrys to ensure Jason wanted for nothing. Desmond had also secured the services of a witch in New Orleans, Octavia Fant, trying – unsuccessfully for years – to find a potion or spell that could counteract the vampire's glamour, undo it. Whatever ticking time bomb lay inside that boy, Desmond felt sorry for him and wanted to try to help in any way he could – he regretted later that he had let his busy schedule get in the way of helping Jason even more.

* * *

Desmond's intentions had never been to cast the boy aside, even though he feared it was ultimately what he had done. Desmond felt ashamed of his actions and how they had shaped Jason's future, warped his sense of right and wrong, deprived him of the love of his grandmother.

Despite Desmond's attempt to disarm Jason, he felt certain that the bomb, so to speak, had gone off – that the vampire from oh-so-many years ago had been his undoing. And while it was too late to save Jason, Cataliades was eager call Eric Northman and confirm that Sookie was indeed in his care.

Afterwards, Desmond intended to avenge Jason's death.

Because, while searching for thoughts of Sookie, Desmond had discovered that Sam – despite his protestations otherwise – had, in fact, beaten Jason Stackhouse to death, throwing his body to the gators in a swamp like he was trash to be disposed of. The police had never recovered Jason's body, and Desmond's own search had proven to be just as fruitless. The gators must have had quite an appetite that day because there was not one iota of evidence to recover. The demon lawyer was certain that Sam – once again – was poised to get away with murder, and it was enough to boil his blood, to get him to break his oath.

Fuck the law, Desmond Cataliades thought to himself, killing Sam is the least I can do to make up for failing Jason Stackhouse.

* * *

"You said it would work!"

Eric Northman roared with his fingers clasped around Dr. Ludwig's collar as he held her at his eye level.

The little doctor remained limp in his grasp, not because she was at risk of passing out, but because Northman was so angry there was no point in reasoning with him until he calmed down. As quickly as he had grabbed her, he dropped her to the floor, and Ludwig scrambled to her feet, smoothing down her lab coat. She rolled her eyes at him – vampires, always so dramatic.

"For one thing, vampire," She sneered at him, rubbing at the sore spot on her neck, "I made no such promises. But, yes, it should work – I think. Give the magics a minute to subside. Geez, you'd think after 1000 years roaming the freaking earth you would've found your patience."

Eric growled, but did not bare his fangs; even if Sookie did not survive, draining the little doctor would do nothing to abate the pain her death would cause.

Ludwig was correct – he had no patience, pacing about the floor in small concentric circles. His bond with Sookie felt strange to him, like a foreign body had taken up residence inside his mind. When he closed his eyes, he saw flashes and pictures from what he presumed was Sookie's life – it was unsettling, but only because he was afraid it was what she was seeing. Pam had told him once it was a common human notion that one's life passed before their eyes as they died, as if giving them the chance to relive all their best moments, or worst ones – Eric couldn't remember which.

But his concern melted away as he watched his little fairy rouse from her deep slumber, stretching her limbs out like a cat does upon waking.

"Mmmm," Sookie hummed.

She could feel her newly developed magic coursing through her veins; it was exhilarating – but there was also something else there that she could not quite place her finger on – relief maybe? Openly her eyes slowly, she found Eric peering at her with a look of pure appreciation, and gratitude. "Thank the Gods," she heard him whisper to himself – although something inside told her that he hadn't meant for her to hear his utterance, his prayer.

"Hi Mister Sheriff Vampire," she said teasing him, as she pulled herself up from the floor, holding onto him to steady herself, "What happened?"

"We..."

Dr. Ludwig chimed in, not giving Eric the chance to answer, chuckling inwardly that she had finally had the chance to interrupt the Northman after all the times he had done the same to her.

"It seems you and your vampire jump-started your fairy magic a little early," Eric gave Ludwig the stink-eye, but she didn't care – that wasn't the part he had forbid her to disclose, "You're alright now, it seems," she said as she circled Sookie to check for visible issues or injuries, pleased by the readings from her temporal thermometer.

"We blood-bonded – permanently," Eric said abruptly.

"That's my cue to exit, Miss Stackhouse; you and Northman can discuss your own business in private. Call me if you start to feel strange," Dr. Ludwig began gathering her books and things into a small bag that seemingly had room for it all. She turned to Eric, "You'll have my bill within the hour."

Then she vanished.

"Do you feel any differently?" Eric said, taking Sookie's hand into his, "If you focus, you should be able to pinpoint my emotions within you."

Sookie closed her eyes and tried to push her own swirling magic behind her shields, to search for the thread that would be her hardline into Eric's emotional state. But as she let her fairy magic slip into the background, she felt something else, something unexpected – something that caused her to start crying.

Within seconds, she began to pop from room to room to hunt for the source of magic that was singing to her.

As he watched Sookie try to channel him in her mind, Eric let his own wander, and as it did, he caught a whiff of something surprising. He narrowed his eyes to peer about the room, resting them on the ceiling. There was a scent wafting from the upstairs that was a little too familiar to him, a smell that he could not believe he had not noticed before this very second.

He vamped from the room not even noticing Sookie had left it herself, rushing to his study to root out the source of the stench invading his nostrils.

Neither was happy with what they found, but for different reasons.

Sookie accidentally popped into Eric's path as he tried to vamp out of the room, knocking – surprisingly – both of them to the ground. In his hand, Eric held a vial of something Sookie didn't recognize; in her hand, Sookie clutched a necklace that Eric had owned since his human days. Both were emotionally charged –him angry, her sad – imploring an answer from the other in unison.

"What have you done?"

* * *

At 3000 years old, Russell Edgington was the oldest vampire in the entire United States, and he liked it that way. It set him apart from everyone else, made it easy for him to be cold and emotionless, as his maker had taught him. While some may have found that lonely, Russell loved his undead life; he was feared, revered; he had what every vampire sought to have – power and the ability to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Russell had always refused, despite the fact that it was customary as proof that the union was not ill-intended, to share his blood as part of any of his marital contracts throughout his thousands of years. No one had ever forced the issue, and Russell felt smug and self-satisfied knowing he was above having to do what was expected. It's not that Russell didn't let anyone have his blood – in fact, he kept a pack of Weres perpetually high on his blood to do his bidding – but he didn't share it with other vampires.

When Russell learned that Sophie Anne cared nothing for customs, or silly blood-letting rituals, he jumped at the chance to align their two states. Russell admired the young Queen's beliefs, and ideals. She thought the source of a vampire's power was in their blood, and to give it to another vampire was a sign of weakness. She was the kind of vampire that seemed to be going extinct, going soft – she would make a good partner; he was sure of it. Plus, her state was rife with coveted assets, a 1000 year-old Viking and the famous procurer.

Negotiations seemed to be going well.

When Mr. Stackhouse showed up out of nowhere, Russell was sure he had been sent by Sophie Anne as a pre-wedding gift, as a sign of good faith. He didn't bother to thank Sophie Anne for his human and she did never mentioned it; he was glad to see she understood that one as old as him was above such things. Russell could taste that Mr. Jason Stackhouse was related to none other than the Queen's favorite, Miss Hadley Delahoussaye – a matching set of humans, it was very old school of her. Russell had even taken a shining to the stupid little human, letting him befriend his not-so-friendly wolf pack. But then the little thief had slipped away with a vial of his blood, and Russell suspected that maybe Sophie Anne was a little too much like the oldest of vampires.

He was livid; if one of them was supposed to be deceitful and underhanded, it was him.

At Russell's behest, the wolves followed the scent of his blood, but they couldn't locate the vial. Instead they brought him a sweet-smelling consolation prize – Miss Stackhouse. Russell didn't waste time slipping her his blood, for tracking purposes, putting it in the only water source she had been provided. He had to admit he appreciated the fight she had in her; she'd waited a full day to even allow herself a gulp.

Russell had... enjoyed Miss Stackhouse's feelings; they had warmed him, made him feel alive again, almost human. He forbid the Weres from laying one hand on her, under penalty of death – a rule he even followed himself. He didn't even bother to follow her when she ran away; it was like she had glamoured _him_. Russell temporarily forgot all about the blood, or hating Sophie Anne, overtaken by the light that had filled him.

But then it was suddenly dark – he was himself again – and the contrast startled him, filled him with an unquiet rage. He despised the girl, loathed her for changing him, for making him feel at all. He was disgusted with himself for refusing to bite her, for protecting her. She had caused an infestation of feelings inside him, and he had _liked_ it. What the fuck had been wrong with him?

He should've expected the Miss Stackhouse was just another one of Sophie Anne's pets, that she had a set of three.

Russell had to give it to Sophie Anne; if this had been her purpose all along, to trick him into taking the girl so that he would lose himself, become weak, then she was true force to be reckoned with, an enemy that needed to be dispatched. He couldn't risk anyone thinking that he had been bested, let alone by a vampire 2000 years his junior. Russell decided then and there would be no union between Mississippi and Louisiana, and began to send bullshit contracts, hoping to distract Sophie Anne as he amassed an army.

Russell was planning a takeover and he was going to kill them all starting with the Queen's own personal vampire bait, Miss Sookie Stackhouse.


	23. Answer the Call of the Blood

Sookie scrunched up her nose noticing a faint odor in the air as she asked, "What… is that?"

She motioned towards the vial in Eric's hand, tipping her head to the side as if a slightly different angle would help her answer the question herself. She couldn't understand why Eric seemed so mad – it didn't look like it was anything special. Truly she supposed she was the one who deserved to be angry, should be angry – she couldn't believe what he had done – but instead it made her feel sad, and forlorn. Sookie shook her head for no reason in particular as her thoughts carried her away from trinket in Eric's hand to think about the necklace she held in hers.

 _Permanently bonded_ … the words rang in her head, and she imagined he didn't truly know what he had given up. But she did, and it broke her heart in all the good ways and all the bad ways. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and Eric supposed it was because he was furious with her, flooding their bond with all the might of his ire. Sookie's shields snapped into place – almost outside of her own volition – to stop the onslaught as he jumped up and growled his next words while towering over her.

"Do not play coy, Sookie. You must know what this is! It was inside your damn compact, or whatever the hell this thing is."

Eric produced her cluviel dor from his pocket and waved it in the air like it was something very much worth breaking in his outraged state, not knowing its true value. It slipped through his fingers and he made no moves to capture it, seemingly pleased to let it shatter on the floor.

"Oh my god! Nooooooo! I need …" Sookie threw herself forward in an effort to reach it, but Eric, noticing the panic in her voice, moved at a blurring speed to grab her bauble before it made contact with the floor, catching her at almost the same time, "…that!"

Sookie finished screaming, sighing almost immediately as she saw that he had, in fact, saved it.

"More secrets, lover?" Eric said with a hint of exasperation and irritation in his voice.

"Seems I'm not the only one."

Accusation heavy in her tone, Sookie held up his necklace by its thin leather chain threaded between her fingers. Eric shrugged with his arms and his shoulders, making a gesture that seemed to indicate he misunderstood her point entirely. Sookie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. In a short number of days, their lives had infinitely become more complicated, and Sookie hoped they could be a united force against the difficulties facing them – otherwise, what was the point of everything he had so obviously done?

"You gave up your future for me. I know because I can see it, your many future years, in this necklace, bound there by what I can only assume was my fairy magic at the time of our third blood exchange. Fairies call these imbued objects cluviel dors."

Eric did not flinch; he was aware of what he stood to lose when he bound his life to hers – but the fairy magic part? Well that was a twist he hadn't been expecting or had even known was possible. But all in all, it didn't faze him because it didn't change things.

"I don't know of the fairy magic – although I think I can smell it... but I love you more than life itself; I would not want to live one day without you. I will never regret tying my life to yours. Would you rather I let you die?"

Her voice was small and hushed.

"Maybe."

Eric could feel her shame and pain in the bond. He hated to think she was blaming herself for the deaths of everyone around her, but he knew it to be true. He could appreciate that in her mind she could not ignore that her death would cause his – unless she became a vampire, accepted a life of eternity.

"Would you have let me die if you could have saved me?"

He said, tipping her chin up, bidding her to look him in the eyes.

"No, of course not!"

Her eyes were wide, fire burning behind them. Eric liked how protective she was of him - she looked as she did when she had threatened to kill his maker for hurting him.

"Then, min älskade, can you accept it is much the same?"

"But you had eternity!"

He did not think this moment would be the best to broach the subject of her letting him turn her, so instead he answered with a joke to try to lighten the mood before their next topic of conversation, which was guaranteed to be as heavy as this one.

"A relative eternity," He corrected her, "If perhaps I dug a hole and never came out, I could live forever. Sookie, I'm not impervious to the dangers of life – I could die tomorrow or the next day! None of us is given a guarantee, even vampires."

She swatted him on the arm as he tried to bring levity to a serious conversation, suggesting it was humorous that his many days could have been numbered even if he had not tied his timeline to hers.

"Not funny, Eric!"

"Okay, but still true… This is also not funny," Eric said, holding up the vial of what he knew to be vampire blood, "Why do you have this? Where did you get this?"

"I really don't know what that is Eric, but if you found it in my compact – which, by the way, is actually another cluviel dor, the kryptonite I mentioned?" He made a puzzled expression, "I'll explain later, but if that's where it was then I know at least who put it there – Fintan, my grandfather, my _fairy grandfather_."

She punctuated her final words with a hint of anger – surely Fintan had not had bad intentions, but she couldn't help but wonder why he thought it made sense to hide _anything_ in her magical object. She hadn't seen in him years, not since he explained the truth behind her cluviel dor, so she couldn't even guess at how long the blood had been there.

"This," Eric shook the clear vial a bit to watch the blood splash against the edges, "is vampire blood. And it is very dangerous for you to have this, especially on your person. Blood is sacred, power. The fact you do not know about this leads me to believe it was stolen…"

Eric paused at his own words, achieving a stillness that only vampires were capable of as his mind processed his own utterance, tore through the banks of his memories to rest upon the moments before he saved Sookie from the warehouse.

"Uh-oh."

"What? Don't say 'uh-oh'; vampires should not say 'uh-oh'."

Eric couldn't believe he had said it himself, but somehow it had seemed fitting – that or an expletive; he mentally kicked himself for choosing the tamer of his potential responses.

"I did NOT say 'uh-oh'." He growled.

Sookie giggled and leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, pulling back she winked at him.

"You did too, but don't worry my lips are sealed," And with that she made an exaggerated gesture like she was zipping her mouth shut, barely stifling her own laughter, "Okay, but seriously," Finding her inner calm again, her seriousness, "Why the 'oh shit' moment?"

"I think I know why you were kidnapped…"

The phone chose that moment to buzz; Eric tried to ignore it, but Sookie reached her hand into his pocket and pulled his phone out, letting her hand graze something else as she drew it back.

"It's Pam, and it's kinda rude not to answer the phone."

"We are speaking of important things; Pam can wait."

"Pam may have information that can help us in the future; we're reminiscing on the past. What's done is done – at least until it comes to bite us in our butts. Maybe Pam doesn't want our butts to get bitten."

Even Eric had to chuckle at that; he didn't bother trying to hide it – throwing his head back in uproarious laughter.

"No, I imagine we would not want our asses to be bitten – at least not by others," Eric said, licking his lips at Sookie, showing just a peak of his fangs, before answering the phone, "Pam."

* * *

Pam's call was short and succinct – as most conversations were between Eric and his child. She shared the news of Compton's torture, and his subsequent confessions. Eric tamped down his rage, as he watched it roll through Sookie, who shook and somehow produced fireballs in her hands – scaring the both of them. The fire had vanished almost instantly as she calmed, but still he rushed to her side to check for wounds or burns.

When they noted that her flesh had not been singed – Eric standing in front of Sookie as he turned her hands over and over – they decided together to hold off on calling Dr. Ludwig back – instead hopping into Eric's car and peeling off into the night to confront Bill Compton. After everything that had happened to Sookie at the hands of an insane vampire like Bill Compton, even Eric had to admit – much to his chagrin – that Sookie was the one who deserved the kill.

* * *

Driving at a speed that had Sookie white-knuckled, clutching her seatbelt with her eyes squeezed close, Eric's phone vibrated once again. He was surprised at the caller ID, answering the phone with his left hand while steadying the wheel to zip in and out of traffic with the right.

"Catalaides, Northman here."

Eric's shock was palpable when the demon offered no pleasantries, asking for Sookie straightaway. Eric almost denied the request, but then Sookie reached her hand out, curling her fingers at him to silently communicate that she would like the phone, indicating that she was familiar with Eric's lawyer and sometimes business associate.

"Hi Dezzie; how are you?"

Eric's mouth was agape and he turned his head sharply to stare at Sookie, who shooed his gaze away open-palmed, while mouthing "watch the road!" at him.

"Thank for your condolences. I know… it was… awful…"

Eric could smell that Sookie allowed more than a few tears to slip from her eyes. He reached his hand over to cup her cheek, never letting his eyes drift from the road. She accepted the comfort, nuzzling back into his touch. He rested his hand on her leg.

"How did you know I'd be with Eric?" Her brow furrowed, knitting together as she sought to answer the question before Catalaides did, "Yeah, I guess he's not nearly as stealthy as he thought he was – Fintan too? Haha! Oh that's kinda rich."

Eric hated that the roar of the engine was too loud for him to hear the demon's words, especially since it seemed a joke had been made at his expense.

"Yeah, I saw Tara… Yes, she did say something about Jason, and that my boss Sam's being held for murder…"

Sookie's hand snapped over her mouth, and she began to hyperventilate through the fresh tears that burst forth from her eyes in torrents. Eric could feel her going numb and he growled lowly to himself – what had Catalaides said that had her upset her so much? He was going to pay a not so kind word to his lawyer the next time he saw him.

"Okay… No, I guess I understand… I dunno, Des! How do you want me to feel?!" Her voice raised and then softened again, "I love you too. Yes, I'll be staying with Eric for a while, maybe permanently… Yeah, he is great to me… Okay, call after; please."

Sookie didn't even say 'bye'; she simply dropped the phone and pulled her legs into the seat, knees into her chest, to stare out the window, blinking repeatedly and wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"Sookie?"

Eric slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the road, throwing the gear into park. Sookie turned towards him her face red and blotchy from silent sobs; he took her hand in his, using the other arm to pull her over the console and into his lap, pushing the seat back in a blur she didn't see to make room.

"Sam bludgeoned Jason to death, but there's no evidence for the authorities to convict him – so Des is going to kill him for it. He… wanted my blessing, I think…"

"Human systems were not built to accommodate supernatural offenders, like your boss Sam Merlotte, who can easily evade justice. If Desmond believes Sam will walk, surely he speaks the truth. Would you rather your brother's murderer was not held accountable for his crimes?"

Sookie shifted nervously in her seat wringing her hands, and suddenly Eric wondered if their outing was inopportunely timed. Sookie had allowed her easy anger at Compton's crimes to drive them to this point, but he began to worry she would not have the stomach for it – to take her revenge.

"No, of course not," She said after a few moments, "I guess it just surprised me how blasé he seemed about the whole thing."

"Sookie, I can assure you that supernaturals are anything but nonchalant when it comes to ending another's life. Desmond is a good man; he may not be conflicted, but he understands the weight of his actions. I myself have ended and tortured several unruly vampires during my duties as Sheriff; I do not revel in it – it is not fun for me – but I am not inclined to foolishly give away mercy. Some crimes are unforgivable, some creatures are simply monsters."

Sookie sat silent, lost in her own thoughts, for more than twenty minutes before she pulled herself from Eric's lap and settled back into the passenger side seat.

"Okay, I needed that, a moment to really think about things… but I'm ready now; let's go. I want to confront the monster who destroyed my family."

Eric did not question Sookie, feeling her resolve in their bond, and off they drove again into the moonlit night towards his safehouse.

* * *

Arms splayed from his sides, Bill Compton was chained spread-eagled with silver to the wall in the basement of one of Eric's many safe houses. He thrashed and yanked at his restraints, trying to release himself from his confines as Pam laughed at him. The more he struggled, the further the silver cut and burned his skin, and Pam could not help but wonder why he seemed too dense to understand he was only hurting himself.

Bill stilled when he saw Sookie enter the room, allowing himself a deep inhalation of her scent, shuddering at how sweet it smelled. Pam poked him with the edge of her silver-tipped stilettos to stop his creepy display – not only was it disrespectful to Sookie, but it was also fucking gross. Bill's fruitless fight against his chains resumed when he saw the Viking walk in, pull Sookie to his side, and place a kiss on the top of her head.

Bill could not believe his eyes, and he felt fury rise within him – she was his! He had decided it years ago, and it was no less true as far as he was concerned. He had seen her first!

"DO NOT TOUCH HER! She is mine!" Bill snarled, dropping his fangs in an effort to intimidate the Viking.

Eric laughed as Sookie stomped over to Bill screaming, "Excuse me!? Who the hell do you think you are?! I'm not fucking yours and I never will be! You… you fucking psycho!"

"Sookeh, darling," She cringed at his pronunciation of her name and also the term of endearment, "I do not know what lies they have told you, but they only want you for your blood. I LOVE you! I have always loved you! EVERYTHING I have done has been for you! FOR US! So that we can be happy together!"

"Let me get this fucking straight," Eric smiled, he loved seeing Sookie this like, so strong and fiery, "You think you love me?! What the FUCK is wrong with you?!"

Although Sookie was usually not prone to curse, the moment seemed fitting. It made her sick that Bill thought all of the atrocities he had committed against her family were anything but for his own selfish purposes. She continued before he could make any more bullshit professions of love.

"You killed my family! You pushed my parents' car off the road – with me in it! You glamoured my brother to fucking hate me – you drove him to drugs! Oh, and if that wasn't fucking enough, you decided to come back AGAIN and glamour him to steal some fucking vampire's blood!

YOU! You are the reason my parents are dead, my brother is dead…" Her voice became smaller as she let herself feel the full weight of her loss; her power manifested in her hands, producing little fireballs of light, "I lost my Gran because of you, and a grandfather I never really got to know! You have DESTROYED my life, Bill Compton! You really are just a SICK FUCKING MONSTER if you think that was all for me, and if you think that after ALL that, I'd even CONSIDER being yours."

The fireballs hissed and crackled in her hands, itching to be let go.

Pam nudged Eric, intrigued but also concerned by Sookie's light show, and he waved her off, bidding her to watch Sookie in action. He could not have been more in love with Sookie in this moment; she was a Valkyrie, a warrior, and despite the fact she was new to her powers, she wielded them almost effortlessly.

"Sookeh…"

Sookie did not want to hear one more disgusting word slip from mouth of the monster in front of her. She was not sure how to unleash her fireballs, but something in her head told her to press her palms forwards, towards Bill – so she did. The light released and struck Bill Compton directly in the chest; stunned, he darted his eyes about before he began to wail in agony. A fire bloomed where he had been hit, smoldering across the rest of his body. She wanted to cover her ears as his shrieks echoed against the walls, but she did not let herself – in for a penny in for a pound.

After minutes, all that what was left of Bill Compton was a pile of ashes on the floor. For good measure, Sookie walked over and kicked the pile apart. Pam counted herself lucky that Sookie did not have such powers the night she had attacked her, and then she laughed.

"Oh, Sookie; you truly are a delight! And your little light show? That's new and scary as hell, but amazing!"

Sookie had been a little afraid that she would feel guilty, but instead she was pleased with herself – Eric was right; some creatures were monsters. Eric swept Sookie into his arms and planted a steamy kiss on her lips; she could feel his excitement against her hip, rubbing up herself up against him. They both got a little caught up in their affections before Pam cleared her throat, reminding them they were not alone.

"Ahem! Eric, your phone is ringing."

Sure enough, they had both missed the buzzing coming from the table where Sookie had placed his phone. He nuzzled his face into Sookie's neck and hair.

"Tell them to call back, Pam."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eric. It's Sophie-Anne."

* * *

Eric righted himself, giving Sookie one more peck before exiting the room to speak to the Louisiana Queen.

"Sophie-Anne."

"Northman. I seem to be missing my procurer, Bill Compton," Eric waited for the accusation, but it didn't come, "Probably went back to his bitch of a maker, Lorena. Oh well, no matter! I need you to find and bring me something from your area – right away."

"Of course," Eric responded dutifully but not excitedly; while he did not want to be a King, he did not enjoy that he was under anyone's thumb, "What is it you need?"

"I need you to find a human girl and bring her to New Orleans. Use whatever means necessary, but do not harm her; she is very valuable to the state."

Eric dreaded the question, but he knew he had to ask, at the very least to keep up the pretense that he did not know of Russell Edgington's request for his bonded, "And the name of the human?"

"Miss Sookie Stackhouse of Bon Temps."

Even though it was expected Eric could not fight the urge to curse as he hung up the phone.

"Fuck."


	24. (One's) Own Flesh and Blood

Eric rejoined Pam and Sookie sharing with them his conversation with the Queen of Louisiana. Sookie was nervous and overwhelmed at the thought of having to perform as a pet in front of vampire royalty. Pam was giddy as a lark, clapping her hands together as she exclaimed, "Oh goody! A chance to go shopping again!" Sookie sighed, it had not gone so well the last time she tried to go out in public.

Pam nudged Sookie playfully, "Maybe it will go better this time," giving her a suggestive wink.

Eric was less than amused at the idea of Pam taking Sookie for another trip shopping; she had been hurt during her last outing. But in truth, he was more worried about what could happen at the palace.

Eric did not want to take Sookie to the Queen, especially since Compton had admitted to Pam that he had absconded with the pet paperwork that had been sent in; there was no legal claim to enforce if Sophie-Anne decided she wanted to keep Sookie, which he suspected may be the case. Normally, a bonded human would be off-limits, but since Sophie-Anne had insisted he bring Sookie to her using any means necessary, he worried that it would make little difference; if anything his blood inside Sookie would show the depth of his loyalty to the queen, and possibly little else.

That did not sit well with him.

Eric considered defying the Queen, running simulations and scenarios in his head, but ultimately they all ended the same way. He knew inherently that if he did not bring Sookie to the Queen, she would simply send someone else to procure her. In the worst of all scenarios, Eric imagined she would dispatch Andre, her ruthless child who believed that humans were little more than food and fucktoys. Eric knew that Andre would not hesitate to bite Sookie if given the chance – in fact the same could be said for most vampires since she smelled so sweet; he would have to remember to insist that Pam and Sookie buy copious amounts of silver, a choker for sure and bracelets. The Queen would not like it, but he did not fucking care.

Sookie was his, and, if need be, he was prepared to defend his claim with his sword.

But Eric hoped it wouldn't come to that. A coup would draw the attention of monarchs around the world – and place a large target squarely on Sookie's back. Vampires were covetous and envious by nature, especially of the oldest among them. Eric had learned a long time ago that if he even deigned to show interest in something, vampires practically popped out of the woodwork to try to take it from him. While Eric relished a good battle, he could not stand the thought of offering Sookie a life filled with bloody fights and fear.

"Eric, I'm quite sure you're little fairy can protect herself; her pyrotechnics show with Compton was a pretty good indicator that she's powerfully charged." Pam said, feeling Eric's turmoil in their maker-child bond.

"Make sure you take her to Tiffany's," Eric knew that Pam would understand his meaning, "and Pam? If you bring her back injured, I will end you."

Sookie winced at his words, and Pam nodded.

They all left at the same time; Eric in his car – headed home to dress and pack many things, including the vial of blood, for what was sure to be the performance of his lifetime – and the women in Pam's.

* * *

Sookie had been amazed at how efficient Pam was at shopping. It had taken them barely two hours to complete their shopping excursion, even with the few alterations that had to be done to a full-length ball gown that Pam swore up and down Sookie would have cause to wear. Sookie was surprised – and a little disgusted – at how many people were willing to bend over backwards to help them as soon as Pam produced a black credit card from her pocket and declared unceremoniously that price was of no consequence.

The salespeople practically knocked each other over to reach Pam first; Sookie could hear murderous intents in their thoughts – apparently the store had a commission policy that kept the staff pretty cut-throat. They also thought some very unfriendly things about her; "backwater trash" was repeated more than once before Pam glamoured the lot of them into being civil towards her.

All in all, it had been a very successful, and uneventful, shopping trip. Even though Sookie did not agree with the amount of money they spent at Tiffany's, she was grateful to be able to cover the usual feeding spots – Pam's words – her neck and wrists, with silver. When they arrived back at Eric's house, Pam brought each piece, except for the jewelry which Sookie was already wearing, before him and he nodded his approvals, looking first to Sookie for hers.

Sookie packed quickly after both Pam and Eric asserted that heading to New Orleans straightaway was the better course of action. If they delayed or tarried, it would be harder to convince Sophie-Anne, or any other vampire, that Eric and Sookie had bonded prior to the Queen's entreaty. Not knowing exactly what kind of trouble they were heading into, Sookie tucked both cluviel dors into a pouch she had purchased, despite Pam's insistence that Eric should pay for it, which could be fastened around her body under her new clothes.

Fintan's words echoed through Sookie's head that if she used up the magic the fairies were sure to come for her – but watching Eric sheath his sword for battle had given her pause, and she was resigned to the truth that if she needed to make a wish, the consequences might be worth it.

* * *

Sophie-Anne was giddy at the prospect of meeting Miss Sookie Stackhouse. She was shocked to receive a call from her best sheriff only hours after their last with news that he had the girl and they were on their way to New Orleans.

It seemed to her she was fortunate in all the best ways recently. Weeks ago, she had found her latest, and quickly favorite, pet wandering the streets of New Orleans one night high as a kite and begging for money. Sophie-Anne felt the pull – a magical tug that no vampire could ignore – and she just had to have her. It hadn't taken much to convince the little drug addict that a warm home and a hot bath would be worth putting up with some biting. But it quickly became about more than feeding for Sophie-Anne; she genuinely liked Hadley, a lot. Hadley had fire and spunk; in the few short weeks, she became the Queen's closest confidante – not that anyone knew it; there were appearances to be kept up, of course.

When Sophie-Anne confided in Hadley that she was confused by the most current contract from King Edgington, allowing her pet to comb over the spots where her lawyer had placed little sticky notes, Hadley had become animated and excited. She explained that Sookie was her cousin and eagerly provided one possible explanation for why Russell was so intent on getting his hands on her; Sookie was a telepath.

Sophie-Anne nearly keeled over she was so stunned.

Sophie-Anne didn't know any monarchs who could boast about having a telepathic asset at their disposal – she wouldn't even need the marriage to Russell, which elated her to no end. She had not been eager to align with Mississippi; while he was the oldest vampire in the Americas, he was also a little too paranoid for her liking. Plus, there was just something about him that had always seemed off to her. Bill Compton had sworn he would find a way to bring her some of Russell's blood – which would help her to understand his ramblings and intentions – but then, of course, the procurer had gone missing.

Sophie-Anne took that to mean that Bill had failed and was too chicken shit to suffer another punishment like his last one.

Fifteen years in silver obviously hadn't been enough; it had done nothing to toughen up that sniveling vampire. While his procurement skills were unparalleled, she wouldn't need him if she had a telepath; kings and queens would be knocking down her door to pay for a human lie detector. Sophie-Anne could practically see the cash rolling in and her money troubles rolling out. But, of course, for all of it to work, she was going to have to find a way to get rid of Edgington – preferably by way of the true death – he had to go; she was not going to allow him to steal her telepath.

* * *

"I'm not allowed to speak unless you give me permission?"

Sookie bristled at the notion of having to pretend that Eric was her _master_. She understood the need for it, and he had explained it to its fullest extent – leaving her no chance of slipping up accidentally – but she still didn't like it.

Eric reached up and gently cupped Sookie's face with his hands.

"It is not how you deserve to be treated; I agree, lover. But it is imperative that you appear to be in my thrall, that you act as a glamoured human would. In 1000 years, you are the only human I have ever met that was immune to my glamour, and I imagine your fairy nature is the reason. If anyone realizes what you are…"

His voice trailed off, but Sookie felt the spike of fear and worry in their bond, and she doubled it in response, knowing that if _he_ was afraid, she certainly had cause to be.

"I still don't like it," She said quietly.

"Neither do I," He pressed a light kiss to her forehand and dropped his hands from her cheeks, motioning to Pam, who sat in the driver's seat, to restart the car, "I will protect you with my life. I will not let anyone hurt you. Now, show me the look once again."

Sookie laughed and rolled her eyes at him; she knew he was just baiting her – they had already agreed that her "crazy Sookie" smile was the perfect affectation to don.

"Spot on! Are you sure you've never been glamoured before Miss Stackhouse?"

Eric began to tickle her, and she squealed in delight, dropping the uneasy smile. She tried to swat his hands away playfully, but he moved at vampire speed to avoid her, stealing a kiss for each attempt.

"Enough of that you two," Pam said, feeling a little bit like a human mom in the front seat, "Put your game faces on; we're here."

Countenances turned impassive as the three exited the car to be escorted by vampire guard into the Queen of Louisiana's palace.

* * *

Minutes after their arrival, Sophie-Anne tried to peel Eric away from the trio, insisting that she had a surprise for Miss Stackhouse waiting for her in the parlor – which would have been fine with Eric if the Queen hadn't objected to telling him what it was first.

"She'll be perfectly fine, Northman. With all the silver you've got her in, no one's going to want to come within ten feet of her. Seriously, isn't that a little bit of overkill? Do you not trust your queen?"

"Pam will go with her."

The Queen rolled her eyes dramatically at him and indicated that the two of them should step away from Pam and Sookie, get out of earshot.

"No, she will not," Sophie-Anne hissed lowly at him, "It is not a surprise for Pam," She dropped her fangs threateningly, "If you think that I would allow harm to come to the girl, you are wrong and out of line. Now step back and send your child along to the donor pool; she looks peckish. You," She poked him in the chest, "will come with me."

Eric had never suffered such indignities at the hands of Sophie-Anne and he momentarily thought about ripping her head clean off her body. But he didn't; a fight would naturally break out and he could not ensure that Sookie would not be caught in the crossfire. But later, once Sookie's safety was secure, Eric was going to make the Queen pay for her words.

"Pam, go to the donor pool and feed. Sookie will receive her surprise alone." Eric snarled out through gritted teeth.

Pam knew that Sophie-Anne had said something to infuriate Eric; she could not comment on it or question her maker's demands in public, so she complied, vamping down the hall in hopes of a fast meal. Pam appreciated Eric's choice of words; she could return to Sookie just as soon as she was done feeding.

* * *

Eric waited until Sookie walked into the parlor before he followed Sophie-Anne into her sound-proof office, choosing to stretch out on the couch instead of sitting in the chair she had motioned towards.

"Defiant as always, I see. It was only a gesture, not an attempt to dominate you. Geez!"

Eric sometimes forgot that despite the Queen's many years she had still retained much of her youthful immaturities, though she let very few see them.

"Now, tell me Northman; why the fuck have you brought vampire blood with you? Oh no! You didn't stumble across one of Edgington's Weres on the way here, did you? You know there's a rumor that he jars his blood and feeds it to the local pack to keep them high and bendable to his will."

She had smelled it the instant he stepped foot in the castle, but even if she had not, her guards had been quick to inform her, and she worried perhaps that Russell was closer than she previously thought, hoping to simply run away into the moonlight with Miss Stackhouse, Louisiana's new jewel.

Eric had suspected the blood in his pocket might belong to Russell, but now he was sure of it. What other vampire blood would Compton have been interested in? It made so much sense; Sophie-Anne had wanted Russell's blood.

He smiled at the Queen; he had a bargaining chip, a very valuable one.

* * *

Sookie entered the parlor with nervousness swirling in her stomach; she felt sure that she was going to throw up. She dropped her shields momentarily to search for voids and other minds. She was genuinely surprised by what she heard.

"Hadley? Is that you?"

Hadley hopped up from her crouched position behind the couch, a smile beaming across her face.

"Surprise! Hiya cos!"

Sookie hadn't seen Hadley in years; after she'd turned to drugs, Hadley had all but disappeared into the night. Sookie noted that her cousin's eyes were clear and no longer carried the dull haze that came with being perpetually high; in fact, she looked like she had been well-cared for, doted on even.

Hadley's internal monologue hit Sookie like a freight train, and suddenly she knew exactly why they were there, and she began to tremble in fear, shutting down her side of the bond so that she wouldn't worry Eric.

"Hadley! Why the fuck did you tell the vampire queen that I'm a telepath!?"

* * *

"You know she's not entirely human…" Sophie-Anne spit out as Eric held her by the throat against the wall.

Naturally he had told Sophie-Anne of his claim on Sookie – letting her know that she was his bonded – and just as he was about offer Russell's blood as a consolation prize of sorts, the Queen had responded dismissively, telling him that all things belonged first to Louisiana. Sophie-Anne realized as Eric's fingers curled around her neck that she had made a mistake. She was quite sure that her long life was about to come to an abrupt end; she was fearful about what would happen to Hadley in her wake – it was unlikely any other vampire would treat her well.

"SHE IS MINE!" Eric growled at her, his fangs inches from Sophie-Anne's face, an undeniable wildness in his eyes.

"Fine! She's yours; she can be yours! Just let me down!"

He dropped her instantly, and she jumped to her feet not even a second later, moving to sit back behind her larger than life desk.

Sophie-Anne knew it was her weakness for Hadley that had her submitting to her sheriff, but she simply could not bring herself to care. She liked her human, and she was not going to let any harm come to her. She couldn't help but wonder if Eric's outburst was spurred by a similar sort of feeling for Miss Stackhouse.

Andre, her child, burst into the room, fangs at the ready.

"I'm fine, Andre. Go away."

"I felt your…"

She snapped at him, "As your maker, I command you! Go. The. Fuck. Away!"

Andre scowled as the magic of the maker's command forced him from the room.

"And close the fucking door!"

It slammed shut, leaving Eric and Sophie-Anne alone once more.

"I suppose you know that she's a telepath?"

"Of course," Eric responded casually, letting none of the shock he felt display on his countenance.

"She could save Louisiana from ruin; we wouldn't need to align with Mississippi, with Russell. I don't trust him, and if you must know, he wants her. He asked for her to be a wedding gift in the latest round of contracts. By name, Northman."

Eric produced the vial of blood from his pocket and set it on Sophie-Anne's desk.

"This," He stated matter-of-factly, "is King Edgington's blood. Now that you have accepted my claim on Sookie, I would like to inform you that I have delivered the final death to your procurer. This was on his person before he was ended. I believe this will give you all the advantages you need to dethrone the King and secure his kingdom's riches."

Eric did not find it necessary to share the truth of how the blood came into his possession or how Compton actually met his end. While he had worried the Queen's utterance that Sookie wasn't 'entirely human' meant she knew of Sookie's fairy nature, it was obvious now that she was still in the dark about many things, and he intended to keep it that way.

Sophie-Anne grabbed at the vial, popped the cork, and drank the contents immediately. It wasn't as fresh as it could be from the source, but she could feel the ancient blood rumbling through her. Her eyes widened in fear, and Eric unsheathed his sword, seemingly producing it out of thin air, from its position on his back.

"Shit! Eric, he's close. I can feel him, and he's pissed."

Suddenly the two heard an explosion go off in the hallway, ripping a large hole in the wall.

* * *

Sookie could hear the screaming thoughts of the donor pool as each human was eradicated, ripped apart by wolves. Hadley and Sookie, who had been fighting before bombs went off, were clutching at each other for comfort as their hearts beat wildly in their chests.

"What's happening?" Hadley whispered into Sookie's hair, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm pretty sure the palace is under attack. There's werewolves and vampires everywhere."

The door was thrown open, and Sookie instantly recognized the vampire who entered with a sweep of his smoking jacket.

"Why Miss Stackhouse, Miss Delahoussaye, you are both here! I have all the luck it seems, finding you behind the first door I opened.

"King… Edgington…" Hadley said with a shaking in her voice, giving a small courtesy; unsure if he was there to save them or kill them.

Before Sookie could summon her magic to her hands, fry him up the way she had Bill Compton, Russell vamped over to the two women and gave them each a strong thwack on the head, knocking them both unconscious. He threw each over a shoulder and carried them from the room. It wouldn't be as satisfying to drain the blood from their bodies if Sophie-Anne wasn't there to witness it. He wanted her to see what her fuckery had cost him, to know how he punished those who sought to weaken him. She may have used Miss Stackhouse to trick him into feeling things, but he was going to have the last laugh.

* * *

Eric beheaded werewolves and vampires left and right on his quest to hunt down Sookie.

He felt it the instant she lost consciousness, and since then, someone had her on the move. Sophie-Anne was with him almost lockstep. After the bomb decimated the wall, she quickly told him that Sookie was with Hadley, Sookie's cousin who was her human. They deduced that one person had both of them, and Sophie-Anne confirmed that it was Russell – she could feel it.

After merely minutes, the battle's carnage was already overwhelming; there was blood everywhere from the humans who had tried to escape the palace and from the Weres who had met their deaths. Pam joined Eric's side a little ways into the fray.

"Sookie?" Pam questioned.

"Russell."

"I will give my life for her if I have to."

Eric lopped off an encroaching vampire's head as Pam kicked her leg out to stake another in the heart with her heel.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," He responded as warmly as he could muster. If he lost his child, he wanted her to know the depths of his love for her, that he had always loved her.

"The throne room!" Sophie-Anne yelled from across the room, "He stopped moving! They're in the throne room!"

* * *

Russell set the two women down, one of each side of the throne, and pitched his legs over one of the arms. He couldn't believe Sophie-Anne was so opulent in her designs, but, of course, it was how she had managed to plunge an otherwise profitable state into crippling debt.

Now all he had to do was wait. He expected that the bitch Queen would come to him – he had no idea, however, that the Viking was also in attendance for his takeover.

* * *

"Don't go that way; follow me," Sophie-Anne said to Eric and Pam, pulling a painting back from the wall a bit to reveal a passageway. "My children and I are the only ones who know these tunnels exist. I glamoured every human who had a hand in building this palace, and I did not allow one supernatural worker on the crew. It made the job take twice as long, cost twice as much…"

Eric cut her off, "But it allowed you to keep safety measures such as this a secret."

She nodded her head in response.

They slipped inside unnoticed, closing the frame behind them. There were no lights, but they didn't need them to see. Eric and Pam followed behind Sophie-Anne as she vamped towards the opening that fed into the throne room.

* * *

To say that the trio had startled Russell as they entered the throne room from a hole in the wall behind him would have been an understatement. While he was not one for betraying his emotions, Russell donned a look of sheer panic as he watched the Queen, who had flown at a blurring speed over him, plunge a wooden stake into his heart.

"Well… fuck…" Russell said as he crumbled into a pile of ash.

The Queen dropped the stake and rushed to Hadley, checking her for injuries. She tore at her wrist and pressed the wound to Hadley's mouth, hoping that the blood would quickly right the head wound she had received – Sophie-Anne needed to know that her human was okay.

Eric lifted Sookie from the floor and held her bridal style against his chest. He did much the same as the Queen had with Hadley, and was grateful that Sookie stirred almost immediately. As her eyes fluttered open, he spoke softly to her.

"Hello, lover. I've got you; you're okay now."

Their happy moment was short-lived however, as a chilling presence rippled through Eric's body. It was a feeling he had not experienced in years, and one he had hoped to never feel again – his maker, Appius, was near. Not a second later, the frightening vampire that was Eric's maker was in the throne room, strolling over with a smile that scared Sookie to her core – her terror doubling as she realized that Eric's response mirrored her own.

"It's been a long time, my son. Come, give your father a kiss."


	25. FLASHBACK, Of Monsters and Faeries

**A/N: Flashback...**

 **Warning, this is a dark chapter. There are no descriptions of forced sexual encounters, but they are implied - Appius is a sick fuck, and writing this chapter brought me to tears... Eric's (sad and unfortunate) backstory...**

* * *

Appius Livius Occella believed that reputations were to be taken, and earned through merciless acts of violence. For the better part of a century, he was revered as the most ruthless, sadistic, and cruel vampire in all of Europe, possibly the world – until he was all but forgotten, entombed by a magical curse for hundreds of years cast upon him by his own vampire child.

* * *

When Appius found Eric, he knew he had struck gold, discovered a precious jewel that had somehow been overlooked by what he assumed were countless others. The pull was intense and immediate as he laid eyes on the magnificent man who would be his newest child; he was eager and anxious to tie the Viking to his side as soon as possible. Gazing after Eric from afar, Appius had shuddered thinking of all the possible positions he intended to force the statuesque man before him to assume; he was nothing if not a demanding maker.

Eric's turning was quick, but certainly not painless – Appius believed that the harsh cruelties vampiric life had to offer should be taught early on, and without restraint; he was in the business of breeding warriors, not coddling children. Appius tore into the Viking's throat with severity, pinning him down by the arms as the warrior railed against him. Appius smiled into his newest progeny's gaping wound as the man thrashed and struggled to gain his freedom, never stopping his fight despite the obvious difference in their strength. Appius believed he had chosen well, his son would be extremely... enjoyable.

Eric had not embraced his vampiric nature easily – he had wanted to die on the battlefield among his kin – but Appius forced him into submission, placing maker's commands on him, one after another for each defiance. His child was given no leniencies, and few choices in his maneuverings, but Appius allowed him the ability to struggle, to show the fire that had drawn him to his progeny – he hated a willing bedmate, and Eric was nothing if not unwilling.

* * *

At the young age of one hundred, Eric had gained a few freedoms, and he took advantage of them – he knew he needed to if was ever going to get away from the monster who had chained him by powerful magics. Appius was ruthless to him, requiring him to fulfill all of his needs, carnal or otherwise. While his maker touted the sacredness of the blood, he had no qualms taking it from his progeny at every turn. Eric had been a warrior in his human days and submitting to Appius disgusted him to no end, but with his many restrictions there was little he could do to change his circumstances.

Eric felt like he was a leashed dog, tugging at his choke chain only for Appius to yank him back abruptly, show him the error of his ways.

Eric hated to admit it, but some of Appius's teaching and _lessons_ during his first hundred years had stuck with him, struck a chord. He had been particularly affected by the way his maker had taught him about the risks a vampire took in having feelings for a human.

* * *

While his maker often demanded Eric satiate his basest sexual needs, Appius also enjoyed having a variety of partners, and Eric found respite during these times because it meant he could wander.

Because of Appius's brutal nature, it became difficult for the two of them to remain in any one location for very long – the death counts surrounding the duo simply would climb too high to be addressed by glamouring alone. Often Eric woke at night's break to find Appius shuffling their few possessions into the knapsacks they carried impressing upon him the need to sprint off into the night and shed the persons they had been pretending to be – it was exhausting. Eric inwardly questioned whether Appius moved them out of a need to survive or if it was a mechanism to ensure that he was unable to develop relationships past the one with his maker. He imagined his maker took some modicum of satisfaction in stopping him from becoming attached to anything – a reminder that theirs was ultimately a lonely life that no amount of childish wishes or pathetic entreaties – Appius's words – was going to change.

When Eric happened upon Sevra for the first time, she had been washing clothes at the riverbed on the outskirts of a village close to where he and Appius had been blending in for the past couple of days.

Sevra was beautiful dark-haired woman – confident and built in a way that spoke to her physical as well as emotional strength and fortitude, carrying scars and tattoos the likes of which Eric had seen many a warrior adorning during his Viking life. She reminded him of a shield maiden, and he was taken by the sight of her almost instantly. When she spied him in his hiding place amongst the trees – watching her from afar – she yelled out and bid for him to approach, a knife sheathed behind her back to strike if the need arose. While she stayed on guard, readied for an attack, Sevra could not help but drink in his tall and muscular form, pleased by the vision of a man who walked almost warily towards her.

Eric had given Sevra no cause to injure him so she had not, but she was quick to inform him that she had no qualms gutting him from sternum to pelvis if he betrayed the faith she had put in him by letting him live. Eric had thrown his head back in laughter, unable to stifle his amusement as it erupted from within him; the noise had startled Sevra, who jumped back a small distance and drew her blade. Once he began slapping his knee, Sevra dropped her fighting stance, and laughed right alongside him. Eric was smitten; he hadn't laughed in the better part of a century. He knew in that moment she was everything he wanted to be – strong, independent, and powerful.

Eric knew if he wanted to enjoy his time in the presence of the feisty human woman, he would have to hide her from his maker, whose jealousies had grown to epic proportions, knew no bounds.

Instead, he began to spend time with her, pretending to be a human man from an adjoining village who had simply needed a place to rest during his weary travels. He didn't exactly love Sevra, but she had impressed and intrigued him - she reminded him of a time when he was human. And it was enough, after everything he'd had been through at Appius's hands, to draw him to her side, bind him to her in a sense.

In time, Eric saw Sevra as more than a lover; she was his confidante, a compatriot of sorts, who spent night after night with him engaged in mutual reveries. She had been bold one night, asking him why he was never seen in the light of day – and he admitted to her that he was a vampire, showing her his fangs as proof, and she had accepted him. Since then, he had relished their friendship and closeness, spending his free nights almost exclusively in her presence, burying himself in the ground outside her hut during the daylight hours.

Appius became overtly suspicious of his child's actions, but Eric could not bring himself to abandon her, to lose their connection or her comfort.

* * *

Appius suspected that Eric has been spending his time not hunting – as Eric had insisted – but seeking out the company of a woman. Eric had seemed lightened, unburdened recently and he did not care for it one fucking bit. Appius had not found any concrete evidence after many nights of searching, and although he could have simply commanded Eric to tell him the truth, he wanted to catch him – to issue a punishment his son would not soon forget.

But then, as fate would have it, while scavenging for an easy dinner, Appius had stumbled upon Sevra, and he knew instantly that she was his child's woman, the one who was severing their connection – an irony not lost on him as she introduced herself; her very name quite literally meant 'to sever.' He was disgusted to smell not only his child's seed in the hardened warrior woman, but also his blood. Appius had taught Eric that blood was sacred, but apparently his son had not sufficiently grasped the meaning of the word.

Appius could not abide that Eric might be trying to _bond_ – a word he always spit out alongside a contemptuous sneer – himself to a lesser being, that he was running around with a _human_. Appius wondered if Eric was trying to embrace the last bits of his humanities, live among the humans, and he found his son's behavior to be detestable – and risky to both of their survivals. In Appius's mind, Eric had sealed his fate the second he took up with a human woman, and he could not help but take satisfaction in delivering his son's harshest lesson.

* * *

Eric awoke to the smell of his burning flesh, discovering that he was partially dug out from the wet earth while the sun was setting in the distance. As his eyes snapped open, he was dismayed to see Sevra on top of him plunging her knife over and over into his form, ripping holes into his clothes and body. The blade was not silver, but it pained him nonetheless and he threw her from him none-too-gently into the side of her hut.

She slumped over, and he rushed to her, only to find her attacks resumed once he was within striking distance. She howled and screamed at him in her foreign tongue, and Eric grasped at her wrists, trying to fend off her cuts.

"Sevra, what has happened? It's me! It's Eric!"

He noted the glassy look in her eyes, and realized that she had been glamoured, was a weapon he could not disarm – but he still tried, to no avail. She thrashed against his hold, and he felt her wrist bones crush in his grip, his fingers sinking into her skin. He winced at the sound of her pain, but he was unable to risk another stab – he had already lost too much blood and had been too badly burned – his hunger was overtaking his sensibilities, beginning to plunge him into bloodlust.

Eric tried to deny and rail against his overwhelming need for blood, but the scent of Sevra's blood was ripe in the air. He hated that he was not an old enough vampire to ignore his engulfing need to consume her, to replenish himself. He felt out of control, powerless to stop the situation unfolding between him and his friend, and as bloodlust clouded his senses, his fangs descended and he bit ferociously at her neck, sucking greedily at the wound. Her heart began to slow, but his monster was unsated, unfulfilled, his wounds unhealed.

"My son, I command you to stop."

Eric pulled his mouth away from Sevra's neck; her blood dripped off his fangs and down his chest. The guilt swirling within him became unbearable as the weight of his actions settled upon him. He wanted to undo this tragedy, save her in the only way he could.

"Please let me keep her," Eric said in a hushed whisper, remembering his maker had commanded him against making his own progeny without approval.

"No," Appius growled menacingly, "This one you cannot keep. You must suffer this loss to understand what you risked by consorting with lesser beings susceptible to glamour. This is a hard lesson my son, but one that will serve you well; others would not hesitate to end you in your weakened state – you are lucky it is I who turned her against you, and not someone else."

While Appius had spoken the truth, he would never admit to his progeny that he had also felt threatened by the human – that he despised her for occupying his son's thoughts and body. Even if Eric had never been so foolish to expose his nature to her, to trust her with his resting place, Appius would have still sought her death, ripped her to shreds to prove a point.

Eric pulled Sevra into his arms as her body began to convulse and shake, as the light drifted from behind her eyes. It took only minutes for the life to be snuffed out of her previously strong body.

"You are an amazing vampire, except for this one weakness, your would-be undoing. You must understand Eric; you can enjoy their blood but not their humanity – human lives are too fragile; they are too easily manipulated to other's purposes. In the blink of an eye, they can become tools of one vampire's destruction while under another's glamour."

"What about humans who cannot be glamoured?" Eric said hopefully.

"There are no humans immune to glamour, and if ever you should find one, you should kill it straightaway – that abomination would be ten times more dangerous. Do not be saddened or angry, my son. You have learned a hard lesson tonight, but in time you will understand I did this for your own good. And one day, you will find a human you wish to keep, and I will allow you the boon of making a progeny. You will see; it is much better when the only one who can control them is you."

Eric could not deny his maker's logic; it had been all too easy for Sevra to be turned against him, and nearly impossible to stop her. For the first time in his undead life, Eric felt truly empty – he blamed himself, as Appius had intended, for Sevra's death. In that moment, Eric finally accepted that he no longer had a place among the living because he was not a man – he was a vampire.

* * *

The longer Eric stayed with Appius, the more jealous and covetous he had become in regards to his son's affections, but he had stayed true to his words – Eric had been given permission to seek out his own progeny.

When Eric celebrated his five hundredth year, he was gifted the boon of a child of his own. Karin was strong, a warrior like Sevra, but while Eric had hoped to cultivate a relationship much like the one he had lost, Karin did not feel for him as he felt for her. Eric realized quickly that he would never be able to replace Sevra, and that a relationship based on friendship and companionship might forever be out of his reach.

He became withdrawn and sullen, finally sloughing loose the last embers of feelings that had been struggling to stay lit within him.

Eric paid Karin little attentions as a maker; doing as Appius wished by leaving her to tackle the darkness of the world on her own – and she did not mind; she hated feeling like she belonged to someone else. He could not bring himself to accept he had made a mistake in her turning, and so he did not end her despite Appius's insistence it would be for the best. When she requested to leave his side after only one hundred years, Eric granted her request. Appius eagerly celebrated her departure, taking his progeny over and over, whispering in his ear that it was better when it was just the two of them.

While Eric had not understood at the time of his turning, or for a short while after, that not all makers were like Appius – so sexually perverse and sick in the head – it was something Eric had slowly grasped over his many years, and he began to twist it to his own purposes, using it as a weapon against his vile maker. It took little to convince Appius of his servitude, of his interest in him – even though it was feigned, Appius was so enthralled by his own progeny, he could not see the difference between truth and falsehoods.

* * *

Eric bided his time and at six hundred years of age he had finally found a coven of witches who was capable of performing a feat that he could not. It helped, of course, that they could also be glamoured. Eric could not end his maker, or participate in his demise, but as it turned out there were fates worse than the true death.

Eric had been conditioning himself for the past five hundred years, since Sevra's death, to wake up earlier and earlier each night. While Eric knew his maker could feel him wake, he also knew that Appius took pride in Eric's determination to grab more hours for hunting and killing – not seeing any threat in his son's actions.

Appius himself preferred the peace that only the day death could bring him, finding himself more recently wearied by his long years, despite his eagerness to devour and destroy the lives around him. Little did Appius know, but Eric had been slipping potions into his nightly meals, tainting the blood he consumed – creating the very weakness that was causing him to rise with the sunset, instead of before it.

Eric thought it was fitting to strike at his maker as he woke one night, just as Appius had commanded Sevra to do to him.

Appius awoke surrounded by a coven of witches placing a spell of stasis on him, trapping him in a timeless bubble, suspended outside reality and lost in a small sea cave off of the Greek island of Hydra. Eric flipped his maker both middle fingers as he walked away, anxious to start embarking on a life on his own.

* * *

When Eric turned Pam, he was happier than he had been in years.

Not only because he had found a child whom he had felt drawn to – who had taken to vampiric life instantly, becoming a strong second at his side – but because he had been able to turn her at all. Appius's commands had been rendered useless by the magics, and he could not believe the gods have favored him so, had given him such an overwhelming gift. He was a free vampire, uninhibited and wild – he'd never been able to experience life outside his cage before, and now it seemed the possibilities were endless. Eric built his reputation during that time. Out from under the shadow of his maker, vampires had not only feared Eric – as they had before – but they had also respected him; he lived by a code that was a unique blend of cruelty and mercy, which ultimately made him a good leader.

At one hundred, Pam had struck out on her own, at Eric's urging, so that she could cultivate her own reputation, become her own vampire. She had fed and fucked her way through half the world, but she had also missed her maker.

Only a couple of decades later, after he settled into his position as the Vampire Sheriff of Area Five, Eric had asked Pam to return to him, to stand as his second at his side. Pam had crossed the world to join him without giving it a second thought, anxious to be in the presence of her maker once again.

* * *

Many decades after Eric and Pam took up residence in Louisiana, Eric had begun his stalking of Sookie Stackhouse; an early obsession with her inability to glamour had turned into a fortuitous and loving relationship, a connection far and above any he had ever experienced.

But Eric had allowed himself to make a momentous mistake, to believe himself safe from the maker he had entombed so many hundreds of years before.

* * *

While Sookie, Eric, and Pam made their way to New Orleans – unaware of the impending battle they would face – two faeries stood outside of the entrance to the cave of Hydra. One peered inside the cavern – to look at the vampire suspended inanimately by magic – as the second faerie had explained the situation at hand.

"So he has been trapped for over four hundred years now? Well, that's sure to have riled him up. Yes, this course of action will do nicely."

The second faerie nodded his head quickly, smiling a jackal's grin to reveal silver-tipped teeth.

"And you are certain – absolutely certain – his progeny has my great-granddaughter?"

The second nodded again, this time receiving an unceremonious thwack to the head.

"Answer with your words!" The white-haired elder faerie snarled at him, "You are a soldier in the Royal Army, not an animal incapable of speech!"

"Yes, your Highness; there is enough evidence to strongly suggest the vampire known as Eric Northman has her in his clutches. We cannot know for certain if she is trapped or there of her own volition…"

The raven-haired faerie, the second, snapped his mouth shut as the Prince of the Skye Fae threw his hand up to ask for his silence.

"Do not say such things; faeries do not consort with vampires. She is your Princess, and you will show her the respect she deserves – remember what she is destined to do for our people before you deign to insult her."

"Your Majesty, I beg your sincerest apologies."

And he fell to his feet before him, kneeling to punctuate his deference to the Prince's words, and also show his remorse.

"Rise, young one. You are forgiven, but know that your speculations are not solicited or appreciated."

"Are you not worried, my Prince, that the vampire inside – Appius, I believe is his name – will try to hurt her?"

"Young one, she possesses a cluviel dor – one we need her to use – so if you must know, I am counting on it."


	26. Eternal Light's Requiem for Darkness

At his maker's creepy utterance, Eric quickly set Sookie down on her feet, putting himself in front of her to protect her from his vile maker. He did know how Appius had found his freedom, but he did not intend to find out.

Appius had different plans, of course.

"I see you've been a very bad boy in my absence," Appius said menacingly, sniffing the air to discover not only had his child turned his own vampire – much to Appius's surprise and chagrin – but had also shared his blood at least three times with the one he had tucked behind him, "I believe a spanking is in order."

Appius grinned at his progeny and licked his each of his fangs slowly from the gum line to tip, the right then the left – his meaning not lost the others bearing witness to his display in the throne room.

Pam struggled to maintain her mask of indifference. While Eric had shared with her stories of his demented maker, she had always assumed he had embellished, warping the tales to help shepherd her through her vampiric life – teach her lessons by story instead of through violence, as his maker had done with him. But Appius's presence was chilling, and the weight of Eric's past hit her in the gut like a freight train. Pam stood straight-backed at Eric's side, helping to shield her maker's bonded, tremoring faintly – her movements only imperceptible to the human eye.

Sophie-Anne crouched low next to Hadley on the floor, and slowly scooted herself and her human backwards towards the secret passageway behind the throne – while Eric and Pam had stood at her side during Russell's attack, Appius Livius Ocella was no Edgington. She had met him once – over 1100 years ago – shortly before her turning; the experience had not been palatable. The vampire, who had agreed to turn her, had instead first sold her to the Roman vampire for a night while she was still human – she had barely survived; emotionally she had never stopped reeling. Seeing one of her many abusers inside her palace, looking as terrifying as he had before, Sophie-Anne could not help but relive the violence of the encounter. She was not ashamed to run if it meant saving her own life and Hadley's, ducking into the small opening and locking it behind them before anyone could notice the two were missing.

Sookie's heart beat wildly in her chest, and adrenaline surged through her body. This was the vampire she had wanted to kill – had insisting on ending – so many nights ago when Eric had admitted his maker had hurt him – treated him like a toy, abused him. The one Eric had told her was in his own personal hell, and while she did not doubt that had been the truth at the time, it was obviously no longer the case. Fury burned within her to destroy the man in front of her, and it rumbled and swirled through her bond with Eric.

Sookie's feelings inadvertently breached Eric's bond with his own maker, eliciting a monstrous laugh from the Roman soldier turned vampire that chilled Sookie's blood.

"So much like your Sevra, my child; so much fire and willfulness – it will be delightful to break her or, should I say, to watch you show her a human's place – on their knees or in the grave. What do you think, my son, should I give the fairer sex one more try after all these many years? It seems you have two women; surely you can spare one for your dear father's pleasure – after all these years, I'm itching to bury my fangs, among other things, into the flesh of another."

Eric flinched noticeably and could not stifle the grimace that took hold of his features; Sookie placed her forehead on his back, trying to calm his anxieties as they swelled up between them – she was finding herself on the brink of panic, her flight seeking to overwhelm her fight response.

"I," Eric spit out through gritted teeth, "offer myself in exchange for Pam's freedom and the girl's as well."

Eric could suffer belonging to his monster once again, if he knew his women still lived on without him – he had escaped him before and he could do so again. In truth, Eric worried that given the impetus Appius would command him to end both Sookie and Pam, that he would have to take the lives of the two women he loved – albeit in different ways – before succumbing still to possibly centuries of servitude and misery. He hoped that by submitting quickly and without a fight, Appius would agree to his terms.

Appius's response told Eric everything he needed to know – his maker roaring his amusements at his son's words.

"After all these years," Appius choked out in between laughs, "You are so foolish to believe you belong to anyone but me?! You cannot offer me my own possession in return for a favor – you have gone soft, my son; lost your edge! You. Are. Weak."

Eric unsheathed his sword, readying himself for the inevitable fight his maker was trying to bait him into, falling into a stance that had him thinking of his days as a Viking, as a human. While Eric had always enjoyed a good battle, fighting his maker scared him – because Appius liked to play dirty, remind Eric who had the upper hand, the control.

"Oh, my son, you have no idea how much I would love to trade blows with you, rend you to pieces, but I will settle for the women you have brought to your side. You are much too _precious_ to risk, despite your many crimes against me."

Eric crouched low – pushing Sookie farther back – fangs on display and eliciting a guttural noise that needed no interpretation; he intended to kill his maker, without delay.

"As you maker, I command you to stand down."

Appius whispered, smiling a Cheshire cat's grin, not entirely sure if the magics had dissipated his rule over his own progeny. But he was elated to see that Eric, fighting against it with great effort, sheathed his weapon, proving to Appius once and for all that he was the stronger of the two – the one who held all the cards.

"You're a MONSTER!"

Sookie screamed, her panic gone and anger waking in its place, her powers gathering in her palms, threatening to erupt. Eric felt her power rumbling through their bond, and he was glad that, at the very least, he was blocking the sight of her from his maker, hiding her fairy nature and gifts from the eyes of a monster who would delight in sipping her sweet-tasting blood from her body, devouring her warmth.

"Control your human, Eric!" Appius snarled, his anger punctuated in his words, "Or… perhaps I should use her to reenact the lesson it seems you never fully grasped despite of my efforts to show you your folly."

"I do not need to be reminded, and she is but a mere human, under no other's thrall but my own. I have fed her my blood as a means of controlling her, making her my puppet. She speaks out of turn, but only because I had not expected you; she still needs much guidance, cajoling, but she heels well."

Eric hated lying about what Sookie meant to him, but Appius was a sick fuck and he knew he needed to placate him, get his lover and his child out of harm's way – even if that meant demeaning them; he hoped they would understand that his words were not his actions, and that his actions spoke of his love for them. Eric looked deeply into Sookie eyes, pretending to glamour her, hoping she would understand the intent behind his words.

"Do not do try to call on your strength or do anything reckless; we would not want a replay of what happened with Compton. Hold your tongue."

Sookie donned her "Crazy Sookie" smiled and forced herself to display an air of placid complacency, glad she and Eric had practiced for this very moment on the car ride to Sophie-Anne's New Orleans palace. While she had initially thought it was a silly thing to do, it was certainly coming in handy.

Appius strode over to Eric's human, appeased to see her simple grin and glassy eyes, but irritated to smell his son's blood in her and the magic about her body. He wondered if she was the object his son currently used to harbor his secrets – his enchantments.

Appius tore his hands under Sookie's shirt and she could not help but whimper and tremble in fear, thinking he was going to assault her, trying to stifle the scream that threatened to tear from her throat. Her hands began to crackle with their lightening, and Eric's dread of her exposure echoed loudly in their bond – but Appius did not grope or grab at her, instead he ripped off the pouch fastened against her body that hid her cluviel dors. She had brought them, just in case, and now she was pleased with herself she had the foresight to think ahead, but angry with herself she had not thought to use them sooner.

Until Sookie could get her hands on one of the cluviel dors, she would not be able to activate its power – the wish – save them all from the monster threatening their lives.

"Ahh… And what do we have here?" Appius said pulling both the necklace and the compact from Sookie's pouch, "A mirror for your woman to preen at herself in," he tossed Sookie's cluviel dor to the floor, shattering it to pieces – unable to sense the magics inside since they were not his own, "and this."

Eric's necklace chain was threaded about Appius's fingers, suspended in the air as he swung it back and forth like a pendulum.

Silent tears fell from Sookie's eyes as she assumed that her protections were in shards, just like her cluviel dor – that there were no more magics at her disposal except the one that hung in the monster's hand, wondering how long it would take for the faeries to come for her once Eric's maker destroyed the only thing keeping her safe from them.

"Eric, it seems after all these years you still haven't lost your penchant for wielding magics you would have been better off to have left alone."

Appius thumbed at the Viking's charm, wondering how his progeny had managed to secure his blood in it – for it smelled ever so slightly of his own blood mixed with the blood of his son.

"Is this how you did it then? Is this how you were able to entomb me in suspended animation all those years ago? You stole my blood!?"

Pam grabbed at Sookie's form, moving the human hybrid behind her; Pam loved her maker, but she knew that Sookie was safer behind the vampire who could not be controlled by such a crazy force – insane by any standards.

It was not how Eric had bested Appius – stealing his maker's blood – but he knew better than to kick an angry dog with a bone in its jowls. So Eric held his tongue.

"Of course it is. That explains everything – as I took from you, you took from me." Appius walked to his son and fastened the necklace about his neck, "You may keep this; it was your trophy I assume, but now it will serve as proof of my victory, a bitter reminder of your mistakes."

Eric struggled to remember what Sookie had been angry about, why she had waved the necklace in his face – he had been so consumed by his anger over the vampire blood that her words had barely registered with him, even though he had agreed he could smell himself in the charm, sense the magic. It had something to do with their bonding and her fairy nature, of that he was sure – kryptonite?

Eric was sure it was the word she had used but he wasn't sure what it meant.

Appius shuddered as he took in his son's scent as he stood so close to him, closer than he had been in over 400 hundred years. He could not help himself – full of hunger and want – he plunged his fangs into Eric's neck, reaching his hand lower and lower down his son's body, searching for some satisfying moment, overtaking the progeny who had always resisted him – elated his son, by maker's command, could not bring him his death.

Sookie swallowed the puke that rose in her throat as she watched her love's undead father molest him, unable to control the fury that whipped its way through her body and escaped from her hands; it threw Appius clear across the room as she screamed out in what she supposed was a faery dialect – as she had never shown an aptitude for other languages – she hadn't learned but could not help but understand.

"Get away from him!"

She had yelled and, of course, no one had understood her – but the vampires in attendance were able to see the swirls of magic mixing in her body, circling about her form and growing in magnitude.

"Well, well, well… Do you know what you have found Eric?" Appius said, not waiting for his progeny's response, "You have in your possession a fairy. A tasty little morsel capable of eradicating you by the sunlight she springs from her fingers, but, by the Gods, how they taste while they try to light you up!"

Quickly, Appius added, "Eric, as your maker, I command you to watch as I drain your fairy whore."

Then Appius vamped over to Sookie and backhanded her, throwing her clear across the room and into a wall – temporarily incapacitating her – advancing on her once again to make good on the threat he had made to his son.

Eric felt the maker's command settle over him, and he was stuck to his spot – but Pam, his child, was not, and she ran at Appius at a speed he could barely ascertain; she was unwilling to let her maker's bonded die. Appius's many years gave him every advantage over Pam who was at best a baby beside him, and he caught her in his hand, suspending her off the ground by her throat.

"So, you like the fairy bitch? Enough to risk your life? Your strength is almost unparalleled for someone your age; you cannot be more than… what 200 or 300 years old?" He snapped his head in his progeny's direction and quipped, "How long have I been out, my son?"

Eric did not answer; his eyes wide as he watched Pam claw and scratch at Appius's grasp, while Sookie recharged the light in her hands to levy another attack – her fireballs growing and growing. He hoped he could distract his maker long enough for her power to coalesce enough to overpower his maker. But Appius was not so easily fooled.

"You," Appius sneered at Pam, "are unworthy of the blood that fills your veins, that sustains your life. Your maker should have told you that all other but vampire are lesser beings, deserving of their deaths, not our servitude – you have defended the fairy whore as if she were vampire; a misdeed I am not keen to overlook. She has control over you – as if she was your maker – and you both will perish for the mistake."

With that Appius squeezed his hand, while Pam dug her nails into his flesh, scrambling for her release as she realized his intentions were to bring her final death.

"Noooooo!"

Sookie screamed, summing her accumulated light and heaving it in Appius's direction as he crushed Pam's neck beneath his grip, causing her to crumble to dust. He stumbled back as the attack hit him square in the chest, but it did not bloom and smolder as it did in Compton – Appius's age afforded him many advantages, including the ability to regenerate and heal more quickly than those much younger than him.

"Mmmmm… That tickles…"

Appius said as he vamped over to Sookie, shoving her head forcefully to the side and tearing his fangs into her neck, pulling back to strike over and over, cause as many punctures as he could. Sookie's magics burned his skin, but Appius paid it no mind, he had dealt with fairies before, he knew how to deplete their strength, stop their attacks. Appius had learned long ago that the quickest way to disarm a fairy combatant was to weaken them, draw as much blood as possible out of them – he regretted he could not consume each and every last drop, but this foe was stronger than most and he needed to move hastily. Sookie refused to yelp despite her pain, instead placing her hands on his back, trying to will the light to consume him, but with each mouthful of her blood Appius greedily consumed, her powers grew weaker and weaker; her hands eventually fell and hung motionlessly to her sides.

Appius pulled his face from one of her seeping wounds only long enough to whisper into her ear, spraying her blood onto her face and into her hair with each word.

"Your fairy kin are just as pathetic as you are; they released me from the magics that bound me thinking I would only take my son and be on my way," The fairies had not explained themselves, but they had allowed the vampire to see them before popping away. Still, Appius supposed it was their reasoning as he pieced the things he knew together, thinking the fairies meant to save the fairy girl under him from his son – why else would they release him, "They have also underestimated me – just as you did when you decided your magic was stronger than my age – you will pay for their fucking mistakes as much as you will for your own, and for my son's. Such a pity – you taste divine, but keeping you would teach him nothing, and he needs to learn."

Eric growled and grunted in frustration from his position, refusing to accept the command that transfixed him to his spot, even though it held him. Sookie's lifeforce was growing dim; he could feel it, and he hated that he was powerless to stop his maker's attack on his heart, which his own clenched in his chest watching the grim scene unfolding before him.

Eric uttered a wish in his thoughts, for the first time in hundreds of years – as he had never been prone to do, believing that wishes were not real and a waste of time – that his maker would leave his lover alone, let her live. He did not see or sense the magics as they released from the necklace strewn about his neck and threw his maker off of Sookie – providing her a magical forcefield against the vampire seeking her death. She drug her body across the floor, bound and determined to reach Eric, weakened by blood loss – remnants of her broken compact stuck to her bloodstained skin as she trailed her way towards him. It felt like a cosmic joke to her that she had finally gotten her magical object back, and when she needed it most, but only after – she believed – it had become useless – Fintan had exchanged his long life for nothing.

Appius shook himself loose of his shock and tried to strike at her again, but he found himself unable to get within even feet of the fairy crawling her way over to his son. He was livid to no end.

"Eric, as your maker, I command you to end her!" Appius screamed, unable to control his temper or his emotions, feeling consumed by the scary thought that he had lost control of the situation.

Eric steeled himself for the command to take place – unsure of what had unfolded, what had ultimately saved Sookie from her attack – finding that the magics did not propel him forward despite the fact he was still unable to move. But what Eric did not realize was that his wish, even though it was off-handed, had been fulfilled and it kept Appius from harming Sookie, even as he tried to use his son to do it.

Appius's eyes went wide, and he nearly came undone – something had changed, and he was fearful watching his vampire son defy him, a feat that should be impossible. Appius felt his fear double – a feeling he had stamped out over a thousand years ago – and overtake his sensibilities, and as it settled into him, it overwhelmed him – he felt powerless for the first time in his long and bloody existence, and he did not like it. Not. One. Fucking. Bit.

Appius decided to take arms, in his dread, at the only one he was allowed to strike at.

Sookie tried to summon her magics, only to find herself unable to in her debilitated state, as she watched Appius cry bloody tears. Something in his features and hysterics told her his intents – to kill his own child, to end the vampire she loved. She caught Eric's eyes, mouthing to him her love as he did the same back moments before Appius – producing a stake from his pocket – plunged the wooden object into his son's chest, his own heaving sob after sob.

But Appius felt he had no other choice – the being that could not be controlled was the one most threatening to one's existence, and he believed he had lost control of Eric, of the one he had most enjoyed having dominance over.

"You stupid bitch!" Appius screamed at Sookie with bloody tears streaming down his face, "You! You have done this! THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!" And he slammed his fists over and over into the protective bubble that seemingly surrounded Sookie as she lay on the floor, broken and weeping into the tile, her blood still dripping from her wounds.

Sookie could not bring herself to disagree with Appius's words.

She had lost everyone; everyone she loved had died in her wake, and she could not help but take the weight of their deaths into herself, wondering how different everyone's life would have been if she had never been alive at all – her hollow bond echoing mercilessly in her chest. Unable to stop the deluge of tears spilling from her eyes, she tried to make sense of everything that had happened, understand what had brought it all to this pivotal moment – but the only thing that stayed with her were Appius's words. If the fairies had not released him, had not believed she was a being worth snatching away, then none of the ensuing carnage and loss would have happened.

"I wish the fairies had never had cause to seek me out."

She whispered out loud to herself, believing her words would do nothing but fall on deaf ears.

But she was wrong, the magic surging and spiraling in the pieces of the compact that had stuck to the now dried blood on her body, releasing their power in an explosion around her, reversing time, dialing back towards a time before the fairies had intervened in her life. The unwinding started slow and Sookie was grateful to see that Pam and Eric sprung to life once more, as if neither of them had met their ends.

Eric looked over at Sookie, unable to understand what was happening, even though he felt the strangest sense of déjà vu, wondering why he was suddenly able to move despite his maker's previous command to stay still. He did not question it, unsheathing his sword and removing Appius' head in less than seconds to watch him crumble to the ground.

Eric smiled at Sookie – they were finally rid of his monster of a maker– only to see fairies pop into Sophie-Anne's throne room to grab her. But instead of being taken by the fairies, Sookie disintegrated before his very eyes, as if she had dissolved into oblivion.


	27. The Reckoning (I Gave You All)

Reanimated, Sookie opened her eyes to take in a grim and confusing scene. Peering about her, she discovered she was sitting on a dirt-covered grave, fog heavy around her. There was no sun or moon, but a single candle casting out a pervasive light into the seemingly empty, but also enclosed space. A melodic voice echoed against the invisible walls and Sookie scooted back, anchoring herself against a headstone in an attempt to limit the directions from which she could be attacked, her heart thrashing with its beat against her rib cage, causing her chest to ache and heave.

"I have to tell you, my child; the Gods have a very interesting sense of humor."

No one came into view, and Sookie's panic rose, her flight or fight response kicking in – but there was nowhere to run to, so her fighting instinct enveloped her senses, overtook her form and she gripped her hands tight, light exploding in a pool around them.

"Who the fuck is out there? Where am I?!"

Sookie cried out; cursing in rare form. Silence pervaded as mist swirled around her, and she released the fireballs in her hands in the direction of the sound – squarely in front of her – discovering the darkness consumed them with ease.

"You can't just run around kidnapping people!" Anger rife in her tone.

Her utterance was met with a low chuckle, and Sookie jumped to her feet, scrambling to divest herself of the creepy presence advancing upon her – running, despite her previous reflex to stand and fight. But as the wind whipped past her, she found that somehow she continued to circle the same gravestone over and over, knocking her hip against the same tree as it scraped against her skin, as if in an endless loop – laughter invading her ears.

"Come now, child; your efforts are wasted and futile. Calm yourself; no one has tried to steal you from your life – except maybe you."

What the ever-loving hell does that mean; Sookie thought to herself, still sprinting, whipping in and out of the tree's path, unwilling to yield to her unknown captor – the stranger answering her unspoken question.

"It means you have, at least temporarily, wished yourself out of existence."

She stopped dead in her tracks – so abruptly, that she stumbled and fell, expecting pain to bloom and scatter throughout her body as she smacked into the ground, only to find that it didn't hurt very much. But Sookie refused to consider why, consumed by the desire to escape – get back to Eric.

Her breath ragged, she clawed into the dirt, pulling herself to her feet, bumping into the man she could only assume had been – to some degree – taunting her. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and still her, as she wavered back and forth on shaky legs, her knees giving out from under her. He relented his grasp and she slumped down, finally acquiescing to her fate – wondering what would happen next.

"It would seem that you have misjudged just how much we've interfered in your life."

Her eyes widened, but she kept them downcast and away from the man looming and hovering above her – fairies; Fintan had not lied, the fairies had come for her the second her protections had failed.

"Not quite, my child."

"Quit reading my mind; it's fucking rude," She spat out in a hushed and angry whisper.

"Then speak to me! If you continue to ignore me, I will be forced to infiltrate your thoughts, to use the only means by which we can communicate to further our conversation. There is much we must discuss and while all we may have is time, I am uneager to remain in purgatory any longer than necessary."

"Purgatory?"

Sookie squeaked out; Gran had taught her that purgatory was a place for wandering souls as they struggled to pass into the afterlife – had she died? It was not the last thing she remembered, but… what else would explain it?

The man – the fairy, Sookie corrected herself – sighed, extending his hand out to her to help raise her to her feet. She eyed him warily, hesitant to accept his aid, and he offered a small and meek smile, as if repentant for some sin he had committed against her – trying too hard to look contrite, in Sookie's opinion. Brushing away his hand, she pushed herself up on her knees, willing her legs to carry her weight upwards and onto her feet.

She steadied herself against a nearby tree and turned to face him.

"Well?" She quipped at him, with fire and strength in her timbre, "You wanna talk? Because maybe – just maybe – I would consider listening if you started by answering all my questions you conveniently chose to ignore."

"You're so much like your Grandmother; she is also so full of – what do humans say; it is a detestable and vile phrase, but it fits…ahhh," He said, the idiom snapping into his head, "piss and vinegar."

Sookie pretended not to be startled at the mention of her Gran, stifling the urge to react to his words – Eric had taught her that enemies would try to prey on her weaknesses, hope to unnerve her by tugging at her most sensitive heartstrings. She refused to let his teachings go to waste simply because the fairy had claimed she was already lost somewhere between life and death.

"You're right; she never put up with bullshit. Now answer me or go away. If I'm stuck here, possibly indefinitely, I sure as heck don't need you bugging me for eternity. I can get along on my own just fine," Sookie said, not sure if she even believed it herself – an endless fate alone sounded like her own personal hell.

The white-haired man laughed again, smacking his leg in his reverie; by the Gods, she was a fiery little thing! How had he lived so many years without someone so delightful at his side? He couldn't wait to escort her to the Faerie Realm and introduce her as his people's princess; Niall expected she would take to Fae Realm like a fish to water.

"Okay," He said, his laughter fading as he spied Sookie's sour expression, "I can see that my evasiveness has been off-putting; I am unused to explaining myself to anyone. I," He raised himself to his full height, straightening his back and puffing out his chest, "am your great grandfather, Prince of the Faerie Realm, the Skye Fae – Niall Brigant."

"Nice to meet you; I guess…" Sookie said slowly, incredulousness evident in her tone – it wasn't as if she had ever even heard of him before.

"No, I guess the title and pomp would mean little, if anything to you… As I said before, you find yourself between worlds, trapped outside of time, in a sort of purgatory – though not the one of your Christian ideals. It is not your soul alone stuck here, but you – you and your entire existence."

"Because I wished myself out of my life?" Sookie repeated his earlier words, the meaning of them settling within her, "Because y'all messed around with me more than I ever knew," The volume of her voice diminishing to a sorrowful whisper, as she recalled exactly what she had said before the cluviel dor spent its magics.

"You wished that the faeries never had cause to seek you out… An interesting choice of words because they lend themselves to too many interpretations… some of them rather unfavorable for yourself; although I imagine it was not your intent..."

Sookie's mind scrambled to piece together the answer before he could tell her; hastily she spurted out, "Because if I was never born, y'all wouldn't have wanted me." Her chest clenching at what she had done – to herself, to Eric. "That's what I did, isn't it? I really did wish myself out of existence."

She implored him for an answer, suddenly feeling very aware of her mortality; her doe eyes – burgeoning, glistening pools of sky blue and tears – gazing into the elder fairy man's, begging him to disagree with her.

"Who can say? The world is shades of gray here; I do not know the answer to your query, my child. But look around us; you have not exactly ceased to exist – stall your tears; they may be a waste of your precious time and concern. I have something to offer you that may very well dissipate your silly and unfounded fears. As I stated before in not so many words, you did yourself no favors wishing so flippantly, so thoughtlessly – damning yourself to an unknown future... to this place. But there is something I can do to dispel all of your uncertainties and doubts that will benefit us both…"

He trailed off, dwelling on his true purpose for shepherding her into their current location.

"Come," Niall bid to Sookie, once again offering her his hand, "Let us find happier landscapes outside this graveyard; this doom and gloom does nothing but compound our sorrows, and there is much more I would like to discuss with you."

* * *

Sookie acquiesced to Niall's request, letting him lead her out of the fog-filled cemetery into a beautiful field littered with daisies and wildflowers – her favorites – and an enthrallingly oceanic blue pond, ripples blooming about its surface as droplets fell softly from the sky.

"There," Niall said, exhaling his relief, allowing the weight of the darkness to shuffle off his soul, "Much better. Don't you agree, Susannah?"

Sookie questioned his motives for drawing her out of the dark and into the light – he had taunted her, chased her around the mist-filled graveyard – but she had to concede her spirits were lifted. The sunshine beaming onto her face had done loads to improve her mood – reenergizing and rejuvenating her; she was feeling hopeful about her future.

"The sun does wonders, doesn't it? It recharges us, our kind. You have been out from under it for too long; you need it – you would do well to remember that. "

Niall smiled at her, genuinely pleased. He produced a blanket out from thin air and spread it across the ground, bidding her to sit with the sweep of a hand. Sookie was not quick to trust the fairy man before her - remembering that Gran had sworn Fintan's kin would hate them, seek to destroy them - but she had to admit she could not see the harm in sitting. Plus, she couldn't leave, and her legs hurt like the dickens from all that pointless running she had done.

"The sun never sets in the Faery Realm; it is always like this there. You would enjoy it; you are royalty, a princess, revered and exalted –our people will bow down at your feet, pay you homage. Plus, my child, I am most aggrieved to tell you that I doubt you have a life for you on the other side of that door."

Niall waved his hand in the direction of a wooden door, not unlike the one at her little farmhouse on Hummingbird Lane – that Sookie had not spotted before – standing unceremoniously in the middle of the green and fragrant field. Sookie twirled from her seat to rise and examine the floating door; it appeared to go to nowhere – nothing in front of it, and nothing behind it.

"But it doesn't go anywhere," Sookie said, furrowing her brow as she placed her hand on the curved metal handle, poising her thumb to engage the mechanism that held it shut.

"Hmmm… I am not sure I would choose that path, if I was you… you may come to regret it," Niall chided, speaking in a patronizing tone as one does to a child about to scarf down cookies before dinner.

"What are you talking about? Do you know what's on the other side?" Sookie asked, thinking of Fintan's speech – he had called the cluviel dor a world-changer.

"I don't, but I know if you open that door and there is nothing, then that is what you shall have. No heaven, no hell – simply oblivion. You dont have risk it or walk into uncertainty; I can whisk you away to the Faery Realm, bypassing the fallout from your wish entirely."

"And how, pray tell, are you going to do that?" Sookie eyed him warily; he was badly intentioned – of that she was certain.

"Why, magic! Of course," Niall smiled like a Cheshire cat, and Sookie saw right through him – his putrid thoughts crashing through her like a tidal wave; they were not paternal in nature.

"You're a sick son of bitch!"

She quipped at him in anger. She released the door handle to whip around and face him, light crackling in her palms – her fairy great grandfather was right; the sun had recharged her.

"You would be wise, little girl, to chew on your words before spitting them out at the ruler to your future home. How dare you threaten me with your pathetic light show! I'm more than 3000 years your elder; you may as well be a human infant or, more aptly, a glint in your father's eye in comparison to me!"

Niall hissed, fury rumbling through him. His features contorted, his ears angling and claws protruding from the beds of his fingers, to reveal the ugliness proliferating his soul. Flashing his gnarled teeth, he snatched Sookie about the wrist and yanked her away from the door.

"I have suffered this bullshit long enough," Niall slapped Sookie across the face, knocking her to the dampened ground, "Your prophesied birth signaled the salvation of our people, our Kingdom, and you will submit! Your womb will teem with fairy life; you are to become the mother of our future generations! Your grandmother and my son fucking interfered like selfish little wretches; Fintan always was an ungrateful and spoiled little brat."

Sookie flinched at his words, her hand rubbing the bruise blooming where he struck her, as she swallowed the horrid truth - her Gran had never been upfront about the fairies' intent. If she knew the fairies had meant to whore her out – to force her to become a breeder – she would have eliminated any temptation to use the cluveil dor by throwing it in a lake or burying it because then its magical cloaking would have persisted forever.

And she would've lost Eric. Her heart clenched; she missed him. Come hell or high water, she had to get home – and she believed wholeheartedly the door would take her to him.

Niall saddled over to her, pulling her up by the hair to stare into her face, "Now it's time for you to go home, little Mother."

Revolted – her stomach flip-flopping as burning, bitter bile rose into her throat– Sookie summoned all of her strength, squeezing her eyes shut and picturing Eric standing behind her, holding her about the waist – channeling his own power through her small form. She laid her hands on Niall's face, and for a moment he believed she meant to convey a tenderness or small affection through her touch.

"AHHHH!" Niall screamed, dropping Sookie to clutch his melting and sagging skin. She had released a powerful swirl of light and darkness straight into his head, incapacitating him long enough for her to secure her freedom.

Sookie sprinted to the door, grasping the handle and throwing it open in a fluid motion; a sea of consuming darkness on the other side.

"You stupid bitch!" Niall yelled, anchored to the ground, weighted down by his agony, "You might be marching into nothingness! You will damn us all!"

Standing at the brink of the dark portal, Sookie cast one last glance at the white-haired fairy, pausing for a second, squeezing her eyes shut to wish that his people would be saved despite her decision to pick herself over them.

A burst of light consumed her as she crossed the threshold.

* * *

"Sookie!" Screamed a voice that Sookie knew all too well, that she had never expected to hear again – her Gran's.

Sookie wasn't quite home, but she didn't care – launching herself into the direction of her Gran, slowing as she closed the space between them. They embraced, throwing their arms out to hug the other close, burying their faces in each other's hair to cry out tears of joy - it was a miracle, and both savored it.

"Where are we?" Sookie said in a hushed whisper.

"The Summerlands. I'm so sorry, baby girl! None of us expected this for you."

Adele sobbed out, bawling into Sookie's hair. She had not imagined when she and Fintan had made the cluviel dor Sookie would ever have cause to make a wish, let alone utter one that would change the world.

"What!? Do you mean I'm dead?"

"No, my dear," Fintan said, walking out from behind Adele, "You are on your way back to the world; this is simply a… pit stop on your travels towards your final destination. But Sookie, you are here because we must warn you the world is nothing like you left it."

Sookie narrowed her eyes at him – would that mean she'd never meet Eric? Was she doomed to live a second-life plagued by a lost love who wouldn't even remember her?

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"No, I most certainly am not," Fintan responded, "Your wish was unclear at best – throwing you into a kind of purgatory until your meaning became exposed. You saved the entire fairy race with your utterance, changing the world indefinitely – in a good way," He added.

"But it doesn't make any sense… why would Niall try to snatch me if all I needed to do was finish my wish?" A questioning in her tone.

"I imagine he feared the unknown, of losing control, unsure what the landscape of the world would be if not shaped by his hand," Fintan sighed, "Sometimes wishes cause ripples, small minute changes that affect very little overall; yours has created waves – it is unlikely that anything will be as you left it. There are things you must know; since our time in the Summerlands, your grandmother and I have learned truths about my father and his sick quest to obtain you."

Fintan dropped his eyes to the ground – her stare burning through him – ashamed of his father for harming her and himself for failing to protect her, "There was a linchpin in your life, and once it's pulled, everything will be different. Because the faery people have been saved, my father won't do it again - of that I am certain…"

Sookie cut him off, irritated that he would not spit it out, "Cut the shit; what did Niall do?'

"Language, baby girl!"

Adele chimed in, readying herself to chastise Sookie for lashing out at Fintan for something that was not his fault. But Fintan's sorrowful expression and shake of his head stopped her – he felt Sookie deserved her anger; she had been truly wronged.

"Niall was the one who diagnosed you schizophrenic, branded you crazy and ultimately drew the vampires to you. He told me proudly mere days after I entered the Summerlands, sparing no details from his depraved quest to secure you."

Fintan drew Adele – who had begun to cry – into his chest before continuing; tears slipping down his own cheeks as he reached out and squeezed Sookie's hand reassuringly.

"Back so many years ago, my father pretended to be a psychiatrist, bumping into you and your mother at the grocery store. She groused at you for repeating something Niall assumed was from her mind - apologizing for your behavior. He suggested you were troubled and disturbed - should be institutionalized - handing her a business card and promising her his services for free. Your mother brought you in for an appointment the very next day. Niall admitted that he was sure your mother would leave you with him but she didn't - citing your grandmother, my Adele," He paused, placing a gentle kiss to Adele's forehead, "as her main impetus for keeping you – she feared the wrath of her mother-in-law. He figured he could bide his time.

A short while later, your mother called him distraught, babbling something about an uncle, and he pushed her again, asking her turn you over to the "state," into his clutches. She relented and, of course, you know the rest of the events from that night. But he told me he looked and looked for you after the wreck – you were seemingly gone; he assumed you were dead. Little did he know that he was too late; your grandmother and I had already forged the cluviel dor – you were already hidden from the faeries when your mother agreed she would sign you over.

It wasn't until your grandmother and I showed up in the Summerlands, that my father found out that you were alive and well."

Fintan sighed again, a single tear falling from his eye before he continued.

"My father tumbled the first domino that ultimately set off a chain of events that destroyed your family – our family," Fintan said lowly, letting another mutinous tear slip down his cheek, "He was so blinded by the desire to save the Fae people – uphold his sworn duty to ensure the survival Faery race – that he destroyed your life to satisfy his own selfish purposes. I am so sorry that I cannot give you back the world as it was, but it simply will not exist. Without my father's interference, everything will be different – and it will likely be better."

"Maybe it won't fucking even matter!" Sookie yelled out, furious to hear that her entire life had been fucked with, that her great grandfather had essentially lined her family up in a row and knocked them down one by one. Again, her Gran screamed "Language!" as Sookie continued, "How do you know you'll even come here once your realm is repopulated?! My whole family would cease to exist!"

Fintan let his granddaughter have her outburst, understanding her fury – his father had fucked over her entire family. Fintan hated his father but could not regard him as a monster; his father believed that leaders had to make difficult decisions when it came to the protections of their people – that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. In truth, he suspected her ire was borne out of her fear of losing the White Knight, the vampire she had bonded with – Fintan could smell it in her blood.

It warmed his heart; theirs would be a greater love story the second time around – he was sure of it.

"Because soulmates don't work that way," Fintan explained, "They always find their way back to one another. Your Gran and I are destined for one another; we could not lose each other even if someone restarted the world one hundred times – fate is incapable of ripping us apart, not that she would want to."

Sookie calmed at his words, thinking of Eric, fiercely hoping that Fintan was right.

* * *

"So no one else will even know anything is different, including you?"

Sookie inquired of Fintan, as the two of them and her Gran stood in front of another door – this one looking much like the one down to Eric's basement room. She traced her fingers along the ornate carvings, memorizing their intricacies, hoping the portal would lead to her heart's desire – back into Eric's arms.

"No, but people around you will experience a sort of déjà vu. They will sense that something is naggingly familiar in moments that are much the same, but not one of them will be able to ascertain why."

Fintan responded, pulling Sookie in for one last hug before they parted ways, releasing her quickly.

"But you said that I'll remember what happened before – why? That seems like all kinds of hell."

Gran and Sookie embraced, holding each other close as Fintan explained the reason Sookie's memory would remain despite the many changes to the world.

"It is meant to stop you from taking the same path, which could cause an endless loop as you sought to undo the same mistake over and over. However, it is… unusual that you undid something you had no hand in – that you affected the past from before you were even born. It will be… frightening for you, most likely overwhelming because your mind will house two sets of memories. That is why you were brought here, why we are all here – to help you overcome the difficulties you will face."

Adele released her granddaughter, planting a kiss on each of her hands. Sookie turned to face the door, placing her hand on the knob, turning back to ask one last question – the one she was terribly afraid to ask, trembling slightly at her hushed query.

"What happens when I leave here? Where… When will I end up?"

Fintan's hands went to her shoulders to steady her, and he leaned in to place a kiss softly on her forehead, pulling back to offer her comfort in his eyes. With a warm timbre in his voice, he answered.

"That I do not know, my dear. I have only heard tales, and none quite like yours. My dear granddaughter, try not to be jarred by your new reality. Think of it instead as an adventure into a brave new world – one you are well-equipped to traverse."

Sookie chuckled to herself, opening the door to a sea of blue and green waves ebbing and flowing, thinking of something she'd once heard someone say on TV, feeling that maybe truer words were never spoken. As she slipped past the doorjamb, she whispered to herself...

"I reject your reality and substitute my own."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to Mrskroy who helped me edit this chapter! And if you don't read her works, you should! She's very talented, and also a great person.**


	28. Brave New World

In a strange hallway – with no visible exit – beset on each side by larger-than-life, floor-to-ceiling screens, Sookie sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide as she attempted to digest one by one the pictures and scenes flashing by her. A life she had never really led blurred past her as its memories settled within her, but the perspective was not through her own eyes – more like through binoculars from afar. She was becoming privy to conversations and events that she was not truly a part of. It seemed that Fintan's assertion that she was to be armed against making the same mistakes twice had a little more depth to it than any of them had realized – she saw everything, which she regarded as a godsend. She also discovered quickly that she could fast-forward, rewind, and even adjust the volume of the movie she accepted was to be her new reality – 'it's like playing a weird game of catch-up,' she couldn't help but think to herself.

Overall, the experience was equally terrifying and illuminating; her heart beat wildly in her chest as she noticed the subtle and not so subtle differences between her two realities. More than once, she paused it – mentally, even though she was not sure how – to calm herself down and settle her nerves, leaning forward to place her forehead on the cold marble ground and breathe rhythmically until her anxieties subsided. Occasionally she rose and walked about the space, confused as to why she felt stiff and sore at all when she was somewhere outside reality – glad she wasn't claustrophobic because seemingly there was no way out.

'But there will be,' she hoped.

Interestingly enough, the clips did not follow a chronological path, highlighting scenes that impacted one another instead of working through time linearly. Sookie struggled often to ascertain how old Other Sookie – as she had aptly named her other self – was, wishing the disjointed story would have included title cards or at least referential dates or years in the corner. But she couldn't bring herself to complain or grumble too much about it – and not only because there was no around to hear it. She couldn't imagine how messy it would have been otherwise – without the picture show – trying to untangle the two set of memories she was ultimately going to house inside her mind.

She could already see the difficulties that was going to bring – literally – watching as Other Sookie stumbled over words and sputtered to retract utterances about truths that had never occurred in the brave new world. But Other Sookie handled things pretty well overall – letting her previous experiences and learnings guide her, especially when it came to hiding her telepathy. Sookie could not contain the swell of pride she felt, even if she did feel a little silly since the woman on the screen was actually her, and not someone else.

Other Sookie had even managed to enlist an ally, creating a close confidante out of Desmond – who recognized a difference in her mind during their first telepathic training session. She espoused the truth of her ordeal, her own personal paradigm shift, so precisely and succinctly that she could've knocked him over with a feather - after all, Other Sookie was only seven years of age at that time, speaking of concepts and realities far outside of her young mind's capabilities. It had taken little to convince him that she wasn't crazy, just much more special than even Gran or Fintan realized. Sookie felt heartened that they – her and Other Sookie – were never going to be alone in her experience, at least not entirely.

Because the more she saw, the more worried she became – so far, she had not seen one whisper of Eric.

No door had appeared so she expected there was more left to watch, but it still made her nervous. What if she had overestimated their relationship? What if they weren't fated souls, like her Gran and Fintan? She shook her head, trying to will the thoughts to drop away – Fintan had been right about his love for her Gran, and she had to believe she'd be right too; otherwise… she refused to let herself go there.

But Sookie had assumed Eric would still be a major behind the scenes player, even in her new life, and he was not.

He'd told her how he had stalked her – although she tended to use the word 'followed' because it lessened the creep factor a bit – for over two years after meeting her on the road one night, the night her car battery died. But she had to admit to herself that many things would be changed, it was a vastly different world for him too – and she wondered how different he would be. Other Eric would have lived over a thousand years in a world with a whole set of magical creatures that weren't there before – fairies. No matter what, she had no intentions of begrudging him his differences – after all, she wasn't going to be the same person either.

"Waves, not ripples," She said out loud to herself, noting that her musings did not echo.

But despite the many differences, certain moments mirrored her first reality – like the death of her parents. Painted with a slightly different brush, Sookie's mom and dad still lost their lives in a car accident during a torrential downpour. She stood to watch the scene, her palm placed on the screen, tears streaming down her face, as her parents climbed into their car after consuming many alcoholic beverages – without her or Jason in tow – swerving off into the night on a hasty trip away from Hummingbird Lane. Her breath hitched as they hydroplaned off the road and into a lake, scraping at the doors and windows as the car slowly sank – failing to save themselves from a watery grave. It was awful, seeing something she had fervently hoped had been undone; the shock stilled her momentarily. The only respite she took was that there was no Bill; his interest in her must have been based solely on her schizophrenic diagnosis – something that Fintan had rightly asserted would not exist in her brave new world – and it brought her the smallest modicum of relief and comfort.

The pause after her parents' deaths was the longest she took, allowing herself to heave sob after sob until she was sure she had no more tears within her to expel.

She fast-forwarded past the aftermath and the funeral, especially the reappearance of Uncle Bartlett – who was once again run away by Gran, the barrel of a gun shoved in his face – letting the movie whiz by at the fastest speed possible. It was hard enough without having to mourn alongside Other Sookie, who had been devastated by the tragedy – 'because, like me, she was hoping that'd change too,' Sookie considered. But Other Sookie did get something she didn't – a childhood with her brother. Without Bill's interference, no one sent Other Jason away, and he thrived under Gran's tutelage – although she laughed watching Jason fight to rebel while Gran fought to rein him in.

"Some things never change," Sookie chuckled.

Their relationship wasn't easy – Other Jason still didn't want his kid sister following him around, cramping his style – but they managed to get along, even if Other Sookie eyed him warily from time to time and tattle-tailed on him a little more than necessary. Sookie had to agree it was best to remember that while he wasn't the same Jason, he maybe had the propensity to be – she expected it might be hard to adjust to a world where her brother wasn't a lying drug addict.

Interestingly enough – and Sookie didn't exactly understand why it had changed, although she was glad it had – Other Jason didn't knock up Dawn Greene in the new reality. He was still mostly a man-whore, but she could only guess that he was smarter about using protection. That particular fact did not play out in her movie, and she was more than grateful not to know with certainty.

Some things were completely other people's business, not hers.

After what could have been days or hours or months – the passage of time being unclear – Sookie jumped from her seated position to watch what she hoped was her pivotal moment, a turning point which would lead her back to Eric. Other Sookie walked out to her car, after a double-shift at Merlotte's, to discover to her delight that the battery had died. She twirled in a circle, a smile bursting across her face – she could not wait to meet Eric; she'd been itching to see him again for twenty years. Sookie realized that Other Sookie's excitement was almost contagious, coursing through her as well, and she felt compelled to do her own little happy dance, her shoes clattering against the marble tiles.

Sookie cheered when Other Sookie chose not to call her brother for help – because he probably would have answered and come to her rescue – instead adding a touch of gloss to her lips before beginning the journey home with a bounce in her step, humming one of Elvis' songs about love to herself. Neither version could remember exactly where Eric had stopped her, but as anticipation built, so did dread – and Sookie realized a hair's breadth before Other Sookie that he wasn't going to come.

Both slumped to the ground; Other Sookie into the dirt, and Sookie onto the cold floor, unable to stave off the consuming sadness that tugged at their shared soul.

Other Fintan still showed up and while Sookie found his presence confusing, Other Sookie was irate, snapping at him, blaming him for things he did not even remember.

Sookie did not blink as she watched the scene unfold.

* * *

"Go away!" Other Sookie screamed at him, "This is all your fault!"

Other Fintan felt a strangeness settle over him not quite unlike déjà vu, as if their first meeting was supposed to be different – not only because he wanted it to be, but because he could not shake the feeling that it had been.

"You know me?"

He responded slowly, trying to reconcile her words with his lack of involvement in her life. His Adele had been insistent that he keep at bay, leaving the Stackhouse children in the dark to his existence and his world. He respected his love's wishes, but something had nagged at him that night – told him it was time to break his promise. His demon friend Desmond had expressed to him something was _different_ about Sookie, but despite many requests for elaborations, Desmond always refused. She was so close with her godfather, and he hoped, in time, she would open up to him also. Fintan desperately wanted to be the grandfather she deserved.

* * *

Sookie continued to stare at the screen as Other Sookie unleashed her verbal fury on her fairy grandfather.

* * *

"Of course I do, Fintan" Other Sookie snorted, "You're the reason I'm here, and not there anymore. You and your damn cluviel dor!"

It wasn't the truth – in fact, if not for the cluviel dor, Pam and Eric would have been finally dead – but Other Sookie didn't care; she was heartbroken.

"World changer…" Other Fintan whispered lowly, but not so quietly Other Sookie could not hear him.

"That's putting it mildly," She spit out, gritting her teeth as she pushed herself off the ground to her feet, spinning around to face him.

"Oh child, I'm so sorry… so very sorry."

Despite her fisted hands, Other Fintan approached her and threw his arms about her, pulling her into a hug. At the embrace, Other Sookie broke out into wailing sobs, accepting his comfort and apologies, explaining to him everything she had lost, including Eric.

Fintan popped them both back to the farmhouse, tucking Sookie into bed as she continued to sob out her frustrations and fears – worried that she'd never see Eric again, afraid it was never really meant to be.

* * *

Feeling sufficiently numbed – her mind questioning everything – Sookie curled into a ball on the ground, forcing the rest of the movie to finish at its fastest speed while muted – no longer watching the scenes as they played out. She muttered out expletives, cursing at herself for making such a stupid wish – why didn't she just say, 'I wish Eric and Pam didn't die'?

"Because I always leap before I look."

Sookie whispered harshly to herself, rubbing her face with her hands, smearing her black mascara into raccoon eyes. What did it matter? She wasn't sure what she was going back to anymore, but she knew Eric wouldn't be there – and she wasn't sure how she could change that.

The movie reel stopped abruptly – the pictures burning in from the corners – but she did not notice.

The lights began to dim in the small space as a door started to creak open at the end of the hall, casting a bright white light into the quickly darkened space. Sookie raised her head, tears still spilling down her face, looking towards an exit that no longer carried the promise it had before.

'A happier life without Eric? Impossible,' She mused sadly.

And then a "eureka" moment hit her, and she smacked her leg with her palm – the sound ringing out in the silent space – wondering why she hadn't thought of it before, "Desmond knows Eric! Or he did, but I bet he still does – gosh, I hope so."

That tiny sliver of hope propelled her forwards; her feet pulling her towards the door-like space, almost of their own volition. The wind whipping through it grabbed at her, willing her to exit the sort of purgatory she had been waylaid in – out of time and space. Sookie still wasn't exactly sure where she would end up – on the other side – but she had a pretty good idea when. From watching Other Sookie's life, she guessed she was rejoining the world at the exact moment she left it. Everything she would experience firsthand would be new and different – the unbeaten path.

"Steel yourself, Stackhouse," She said, pausing at the threshold, pushing against the doorjamb to temporarily stop the wind from sucking her through, "Time for your brave new world."

And with that, she let go, allowing the light to consume her and vault her into her new life...

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

"Sookie! Cher, you okay?"

Someone shook me hard by the shoulders as I tried to will my eyes to open, discovering that I had regained consciousness not during a restful sleep – as I would have hoped – but standing in the middle of what sounded a lot like Merlotte's Bar and Grill. Other Sookie must have been working, in the middle of schlepping burgers and fetching beers when I took back over; I guessed because I had dropped both of those things – at my feet and on myself. Great. I couldn't help but worry that the event was a little prophetic of more bad things to come. Apparently, I was no longer an optimist.

I staggered back as the hands tried to steady me, swatting them away as I opened my eyes – Sam Merlotte's staring back into mine as we stood much too close for comfort next to each other and the kitchen's pick-up window. I jumped away from him, almost slipping in the beer pooled at my feet, realizing I didn't really care that he hadn't killed my brother in my new reality – he was capable of it, and that was enough to turn me sour on him.

'What the fuck is wrong with her?'

Sam's venomous thought wriggled into my mind, and I groaned audibly, slamming my shields up to block the barrage of thoughts I expected to come wading in. I missed the silence my vampires had provided me, saving me from the obnoxious inner chatterings of other humans. My hand snapped over my mouth at the ire borne in my own mind – when did I get so angry? But of course, Other Sookie's memories had settled within me, and while I had been proud to see her triumph over her difficulties – sheltering me inside her while still growing up herself – I had failed to recognize the sorrow and coldness it had burgeoned within her – within me. Instinctively and instantly, I accepted that she and I were one in the same, bearing her no ill will. If she was a bit jaded, then naturally I was going to be too – and that was okay with me; it would probably be better if I was a little less naïve. Although it seemed more likely that it would be a lot less.

"I'm fine…"

I grumbled out, stepping fully out of his reach as he drew his hands up to grab my shoulders once more, turning my head to look into the dining room and away from him. I realized I would never be able to reconcile the two versions of him in my mind – I didn't want him to ever even so much as brush his arm up against mine, let alone lay one single hand on me.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to stave off the bile that rose in my throat from the sight of my brother's murderer – my boss who had waltzed his one-night stands into the bar, letting me glimpse pictures of him screaming my name while he fucked them – Sam Merlotte, who stood before me with a hurt look on his face like he was simply a wounded puppy and I was the bitch who had kicked him. I supposed he thought it was rude of me not to let him help, touch me – like I owed it to him because, after all, he was only trying to be my friend. I couldn't figure out why had I suffered his bullshit then, in my other life.

Why was I suffering it now?

"You know what, Sam?! I'm not fine. I quit!"

I ripped the apron from around my waist and threw it on the floor, making a show of rubbing it into the floor with my white Keds sneakers – I even stuck out my tongue at him. It was a childish display, one I was not eager to repeat, but it felt good – _too good_ – to finally do something selfish, to stop being Miss Susie Sookie Sunshine – caretaker of everyone else's feelings. Anger coursed through me, and I felt grateful there wasn't an accompanying light show – but also a little sad when I remembered why. No blood bond; no Eric.

Sam's stare burned through me, anger swiftly passing behind his eyes – clouding them – as his lips trembled trying to find words I had apparently stolen from him. Catching flies; Gran's favorite phrase flitted through my mind, and I repeated it to him. It did nothing to improve his mood, but it sure helped to bolster mine – my mirth filling the restaurant as I roared in laughter at my own joke. I hadn't needed to drop my shields to know 'crazy' was poised on the tips of all the patrons' tongues, the chant in their minds.

Sam advanced on me, grabbing my forearm as I turned to walk out the door, gripping me more tightly then maybe he intended to. I wrenched it from him, rubbing the prickling wounds left from his fingernails. Eric would've called it a blood offense – if he had been there.

I turned on my heel, marching towards the door with my head held high. My little outburst had escaped no one's attention; heads bobbling along and following my every move.

"Oh, and Sam?" I shouted out, not bothering to look behind me, knowing my words were akin to daggers – because while he never told me about his two-naturedness, Pam sure had, "You ever touch me again, and I'll call animal control on your ass."

Smiling to myself, I slammed the front door behind me, giving myself a much-deserved mental pat on the back. Brave new world meant brave new Sookie – and I was excited; I was never going to be that same naïve little girl ever again.

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* * *

Fintan met me outside in the parking lot of Merlotte's. He leaned against the hood of my car, taking note of my defiant expression – and the fire dancing in my eyes – raising a single eyebrow and nodding his hello.

"So then… you are back? Your past has run out?"

Squinting at him, I struggled to grasp for the recollection of a conversation I hadn't watched in the room, silently chastising myself for ignoring the final two years' worth of time due to my own pity party. Like a book falling off a shelf, it hit me with a bang and the memory flooded my mind. I wasn't sure that I was ever going to get used to that.

Fintan and I had grown quite close during the past couple of years, talking about the details of my previous reality – all of it – recounting every moment of my time with Eric. Surprisingly, Gran was in the dark when it came to my previous life, and it pleased me ever so slightly to have a secret she did not know, especially since she had always been so apt to do the same to me. But we hadn't hidden the truth from her out of spite; no, we had kept her ignorant so that she could maintain her bliss. It would've upset her to think her actions – even those of her other self – had possibly caused me harm, stolen an enjoyable life from me. Fintan and I loved Gran too much to shake her world that way.

So we didn't tell her.

But the revelation of my budding friendship with my Grandfather brought with it another less pleasant one, tugging at the back of my mind for dominance, demanding attention like a petulant child. I had also been doing something else for the past two years – searching high and low for Eric. Sadly, despite the copious amounts of help from Desmond and Fintan, I had failed at every pass, miserably – every lead had turned cold. In that moment, it felt like I had been punched in the gut, and the wind was effectively knocked out of my sails.

Waves, not ripples; I reminded myself, biting my cheek to distract myself from the tears threatening to burst forth.

"Yep, it's over," I responded glumly, "And I guess I missed some things before I made it back."

"What was it like?"

He eyed me with interest as we both tucked ourselves into my small car – I knew he could've popped us home, but I appreciated he would suffer the long drive so we could talk. I turned the ignition, sparking my little car to life, backing us out of the space before I answered his question.

"Jarring," I couldn't think of a better descriptor, "Did you ever see the Matrix movies?" He nodded – apparently Fintan still enjoyed human movies, "In the third one, there's that scene with the TV screens? It was a little bit like that… except with my life."

"Desmond left this for you. He said you would glean its meaning," He explained, handing me a small package wrapped with brown construction paper, a single cord binding it. I set it in my lap next to my purse, "I imagine you know then that we have not found your vampire yet. It seems their society is a fiercely guarded secret. Desmond has attempted to root out his location through his connection to the Louisiana Queen," _Hadley_... but as quickly as the thought arrived it was gone, "but your vampire is apparently a very integral part of her retinue – she's wary of your godfather's pesterings; she assumes the demon means him harm. Do not worry; take heart, my dear. We will try something else; we can…"

I cut him off, shoving the gift hastily into my purse – no longer interested in it; the weight of his words sank into me as it struck me that we were never going to find Eric as long as we kept looking for him.

"No, it's time to stop pushing. Fate's just pushing back. We have to let go; let things happen naturally."

A single tear slipped down my cheek; I wiped it away with the back of my hand. Stop it, Stackhouse; I chided myself – get a hold of yourself.

He gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand, "And it will happen, Sookie; you will be reunited with your heart. From everything you've told me, you are each other's mates – destined. But you are correct – now may not be the time, so we will simply wait until it is. Do not lose hope, my dear granddaughter; Fate will not hide you from one another forever."

"You sound so sure." My voice small and wavering.

"I have seen how love and fate intertwine, drawing people together. I myself was drawn to your grandmother, my Adele – inexplicably and powerfully. Even by your own admissions, I was not wrong in my proclamations that she and I would reunite, despite the new world you created when you saved the entire fairy race," He smiled at me as I glanced over at him, "You will see; I am right about you and your vampire also. You will see."

Once again, I stared out the windshield, digesting his words; my knuckles turned white as I clutched the wheel tightly, steeling myself. Although in some sense it may have only been days, it felt like Eric and I been apart for decades, and it was unbearable, almost intolerable.

Almost, but not entirely.

"Would you like to drive by the house again? It always helps you to shuffle off some of the despondency you feel from his absence."

I knew what house he was referring to – instinctively – and turned left at the next chance to drive a little further away from Bon Temps and a little closer to Shreveport. I remembered that it had always made me feel better to drive past Eric's house, or at least the one he used to own in my other reality. Some other man lived there now and his name temporarily escaped me.

"Bobby Burnham," Fintan offered.

Bobby... I... didn't like him.

He talked to my breasts the first time I met him, and I regretted knocking on his door in the first place. I had finally gotten up the courage to retrace the one car ride I had taken with Pam to Eric's house after shopping, readying myself for a blissful reunion, to find that gross little man living there instead. Crying as I sprinted from the front door, I had allowed myself in that moment – never sharing my pain with Fintan or Desmond – to accept the harsh reality that perhaps Eric and I had not found each other because we were not supposed to.

Although it had been over a year ago, when I turned twenty-one, I had never completely stamped out that fear. Those worries had consumed Other Sookie's sleepless nights and, finally and fully resigning myself to her fate, I expected they would do the same to mine.

"Yes," I answered even though I had already changed our course, "I'd like to drive by the house one last time."

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 _ **A/N:** Thank you all for reading, and MrsKroy for editing. :)_


	29. The Hummingbird Effect

Driving by the house had served to calm my nerves and lighten my mood, something I was grateful for. I parked in front for a couple of minutes, fingers clutching the steering wheel, to peer through the tall wrought iron gate in the direction of the house. I couldn't help but wonder how many times I had previously dropped my shields, searching for a void – a vampire – for Eric. But that night I did it again, and once again was met with the utter defeat that was not finding one there.

The engine sputtered before roaring to life as I turned the key, and someone – Bobby, I assumed – pushed the curtains in the great room aside to root out the source of the noise. Feeling humiliated – Fintan and I had danced this dance, and been caught at it, a lot – I thrust my foot against the gas pedal, peeling away into the night.

Fintan, who sat beside me in the passenger seat, remaining silent during the whole episode, piped up only after we turned the corner to exit the cul de sac.

"What was it that Desmond gave you, my dear?"

Curiosity overtook my mind, and I slowed my speed, pulling over to park onto the dirt shoulder of the paved road, flipping on my hazards and the overhead light. As others whizzed by – at such high speeds that my tiny car shook from the reverberations – I slipped into my purse and extracted the small brown parcel, carefully unknotting the braided string about it. Inside was a single enveloped, but unsealed note containing something with a little weight to it, something that jingled faintly as it moved. I furrowed my brow; what the hell?

As I removed the letter portion, its contents fell into my lap, glistening momentarily as the metal sparkled under the gaze of the dim interior light; it hummed lightly in a way I wasn't wholly comfortable with. Silver – a Tiffany's necklace to be specific, and not unlike the one that Pam and I had bought before the three of us – Eric, Pam, and I – had traveled to New Orleans to face the Louisiana Vampire Queen. But it wasn't exactly the same, and that trip had never happened in this world. Fintan had said Desmond expected me to understand his gift, but I most certainly did not. If anything, it felt a little bit like Fate was taunting me, but I shrugged off my knee-jerk and overly paranoid response to such a beautiful piece of jewelry. Instead of outwardly voicing my confusion, I unfolded the card, hoping Desmond's note would elucidate its meaning.

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* * *

 _My sweet Goddaughter,_

 _I hope you have found your new reality in higher spirits than your past couple of years. You are easily the strongest and most exceptional young woman to have ever graced this plane – or any other alternate universes you may or may not have created. I jest; it is not my intention to be insensitive if my joke has come too soon. I merely mean to compliment you on your fortitude and perseverance through a situation capable of crippling even the best among us. You can brush it off as flattery, but you are enviable – and I am envious._

 _I fear I have run off-track, but you are your own worst critic, and subject to far too many jealous thoughts from those around you who wish they were half of what you are – you could stand to hear more compliments in your life._

 _The necklace is for you, to protect yourself - literally and symbolically, a gesture still significant to their kind - against the vampires – not that I intend to shuffle you into harm's way, far from it – but I would like to ask you to come work for me, at least part-time. I believe your intellect and talents will…_

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* * *

It finished similarly with many more praising phrases – my face flushing in embarrassment but also awash with disappointment. My heart sank a little in my chest. While I was pleased by the gesture – and the job offer – part of me, some tiny little flickering candle of hope within myself, had surged temporarily, believing that the necklace had been a gift from Eric – that my vampire inexplicably remembered our time together and had sought out Desmond to find me. Wouldn't that have been nice? But that was a silly school-girl notion – fairytale poppycock, hogwash, rubbish – pure bullshit.

'Grow up, Stackhouse' – I told myself mentally – 'you already know he's not going to remember; if he did, you would have met him years ago.'

"You should work for him," Fintan chimed in, pulling me from my morose thoughts, "He is right – you would be quite adept and skilled as an assistant in a law office. Plus in the supe world, it is best not to hide; if you are known and in the open, you will be much safer. If something was to happen..." He let himself trail off, looking wistfully out the window - no doubt remembering what I had told him about the vampires' previous interest in taking me by force, "It is much easier to be found when the whole world notices you are missing."

Fintan had not read the letter, so I guessed that he had plucked Desmond's message from my mind.

"You know… you weren't quite so nosy before," I said, laughing so he would understand I was poking fun, not sniping at him.

"Perhaps you were not so quiet before…"

He responded, trying to match the mirth of my tone, but failing miserably. He was right, of course. For the past two years, darkness had consumed my waking hours as my heart mourned the empty Eric-shaped hole inside me; my previously jovial nature curbed in exchange for heavy thoughts and overwhelming anxieties, hardness settling in my spirit. I needed to reclaim my lightness, dismiss the rain cloud I had been walking around under, and focus on living – for Eric, who would be none too happy to discover I'd been walking around in a hazy, sad storm-cloud fog for the better part of past twenty-two years... if I was really being honest with myself.

After several moments of awkward silence, I restarted the car, looking over my left shoulder out the window for an opening to pull back onto the road.

"But you're right," I said, speaking to his earlier assertion, "Jase's always said 'the best defense is a good offense'... works in football, probably will work in the supe world, too."

Of course, I couldn't ignore the irony that I was thinking of trading one murdering boss for another – but Desmond was different; he had killed Sam – in my other life – to avenge Jason's death. I wasn't sure if God would forgive my demon godfather – thou shalt not kill was a commandment, not a suggestion – but I sure had; not that forgiveness had been needed. Hadn't I done the same to Bill Compton under the same guise, a similar notion – revenge? Maybe I could be called a great many things, but 'hypocrite' was not one of them. A TV show I liked had once pointed out that karma didn't necessarily have hands, which meant she was forced to use others for her bidding – I liked to believe it's what had happened with myself and Desmond – and if I paid for that faulty assumption later? That was fine; I'd choose to deliver Bill Compton the true death again – every day of the week, if the opportunity arose.

"Your grandmother's approach is..." I could tell Fintan was trying to put it as gently as possible, "... ineffective. She seeks to hide you from the world, but that won't keep it at bay. Desmond's will take the bite out of the situation - no pun intended." He chuckled at his own turn of phrase.

I enjoyed it also, chorusing his melodic laugh with my own. Finally finding my opening – a surprising amount of traffic speeding by for such a late hour - I began our course back to Hummingbird Lane, reflecting silently on Desmond's offer, Eric's absence, and Fintan's words. And, of course, there was necklace resting in my lap – the one I hadn't moved or touched since it fell there. I couldn't bring myself to make it real by accepting its corporeal nature, and honestly I wasn't sure why.

After bounding up the uneven gravel drive, I parked in front of the mostly dark farmhouse; the porchlight illuminated its namesake and little else. Before I could unhook my seatbelt, Fintan popped out of the car to open my driver's side door. I appreciated the gesture by offering a quiet "thank you" accompanied by a small smile – my mind otherwise distracted – as I exited the vehicle, tucking the silver necklace into the pocket of my black work shorts.

I couldn't bring myself to wear it yet.

"Goodnight, my dear," Fintan placed his arm around my shoulder, squeezing, "If I may offer some grandfatherly advice," My blue eyes bore into his, as I staved off tears threatening to burst forth – Eric; if I had not made the wish, would we be in each other's arms right now? – nodding my agreement, "Do not let your past plague you; the future is all any of us has."

He popped away, but I knew he hadn't gone far, sensing his mind upstairs in the house – Gran's room. I loved they had wandered once again into each other's paths – not only because it had secured my own existence, but because their love was beautiful, fathomless and deep. I ached to tamp down my jealousy, to embrace the hope Fintan tried to spark within me, but some part of me struggled against both, and I hated feeling so at odds with myself.

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* * *

I slumped down onto the porch swing after ascending the few wooden stairs – hugging my legs into my chest for warmth and comfort - staring into the night sky, tracing the outlines of constellations with my fingers.

"Where are you, Mister Sheriff Vampire?" Hushed bitterness enveloped my tone, "Why aren't you here?"

And then I noticed it, a tell-tale void in my mental signature, within the casted net I set about me to scan for supernatural threats or human predators. My breath hitched in my throat and my heart fluttered in my chest. Had Eric heard me? Was it him?

"Hello?"

My voice echoed in the direction of the void in my woods, rattling through the trees and dying unanswered. Emboldened, I rose from my seat, walking slowly off the porch, trying to still the anticipatory shaking that had overtaken my form.

"Hello?"

I called again, the volume crescendoing, my nearly frantic and excited utterance belied by its pitch as I launched myself forward, stopping shortly outside the haloing light from the deck. But almost concurrently, something inside me gave me pause, and I knew I'd be remiss to ignore it, slowing my descent towards the hidden figure.

Peering into the pitch black darkness, I surveyed the tree line, searching for any sign of movement; my ears itching to catch the slightest sound, the crackling of a fallen leaf or the wind pressing against clothing. In seconds, my excitement transformed into fright, and my heart's quickened thump-thump whooshed loudly in my ears as adrenaline flooded my veins – my legs screaming to run. I threw my hand into my pocket, fumbling to grab the silver chain, dropping it into the dewy grass. I scrambled to find it, terror clutching my chest as I broke out into silent sobs. My fingers grasped at dirt and rocks, scraping tiny holes into my skin as I continued to hunt by touch alone for what I feared may be my only salvation – the void advancing upon me slowly – menacingly – even though it had yet to appear in my line of sight.

Pain radiated through me borne from the cuts in my hands, but I wouldn't allow myself to yelp out, although I wanted to – what if it only served to spur on the beast lurking in my woods?

Eric wouldn't taunt or tease me like this, I thought to myself as my terror compounded. It wasn't as if he'd been the only vampire interested in me before - Sophie-Anne, Russell, Bill; they could all be added to that list. And in this world? Who could say? I wasn't exactly keen to solve that mystery.

My heart continuously leapt into my throat violently, breaking my concentration from the task at hand - the necklace.

Finally, the cool metal brushed against my trembling fingers and I snatched it up, fighting momentarily with the clasp, but emerging victorious. I shoved myself back, pushing off the ground and scratching up the back of my legs, to flop over and jump to my feet, sprinting – after a couple hasty stumbles – back towards the safety of my house.

The void didn't breach the line of light cast out from the now flickering light, but it didn't leave either, watching me - I was sure of it - like an animal stalks its prey. Before I threw open the screen door, I swore I heard a sharp inhale followed by a heady shuddered groan before the void disappeared entirely, vamping away in the direction of the graveyard next to my house.

I could barely stifle my wails as I slipped onto the lacquered wooden floor with my back pressed against the closed front door. It can't come in, I told myself, not without an invitation. But of course my mind nagged at me that Gran could easily weak-link that system of magical protection since, unlike myself, she could fall victim to glamour.

I didn't sleep a wink or bother to scrub the dirt from under my nails - it smarted like hell but it reminded me I was still alive, intact.

I did manage to break one of the legs off my wooden nightstand, fashioning it into a makeshift stake - so that was something akin to progress. I thumbed it over and over, my back against the headboard - quilted bedspread pulled about my shoulders - eyeing the window and door as if they were pathways to my destruction to be utilized by my enemy, the unknown vampire who, as far as I knew, may have had an open-ended invitation into to the house.

Awareness was most certainly the opposite of bliss.

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* * *

Sometime after sunrise broke, I lost consciousness, exhausted from the previous night's events. I had been wrung out like soaked laundry and hung to dry; so I slept, and I slept. Whenever my crusty eyes would dare to open, I'd squeeze them shut again dragging myself back into the furthest corners of my addled mind. Dreams didn't come, and I was happy not to oblige them.

Not emerging from my room for several hours after my usual waking time caused Gran to come upstairs to check on me – worried out of her mind. But I wasn't eager to face her because I was scared to learn the truth about whether or not she had been glamoured.

And I was right to be nervous – because she had been – that became apparent almost instantly.

"Baby girl, are you okay?"

My Gran asked me, speaking quietly and calmly, rubbing my back in an effort to wake me gently, sitting next to me as I lay turned away from her. She had always made me feel loved, like I was precious to her.

I pretended to be asleep, slipping into her mind – too anxious to discover whether or not she had, in a sense, been compromised. I stifled my shock as I wriggled deeper and deeper, rooting out a dark spot – a blank – that was a clear indication that glamour was rife within her mind. It saddened me to no end, but I had to strengthen my resolve – having already decided what course of action to take in the event a vampire had taken ahold of her mind. I regarded her the way Desmond had Jason went he sent him away in my other life – she was a ticking time bomb, and one I was sure would be activated to destroy me.

And she would be caught in the crossfire.

Whether it was myself or Jason, one of us Stackhouses always seemed to be pulling Gran into trouble – Jason previously by stealing vampire blood under glamour and stashing it in the house, and me… by being me – sweet-smelling fairy-hybrid vampire bait. While Fintan could mask his faery scent, I was certain that I could not, remembering more than once that he had encouraged me to run until the sweat soaked through my clothes if I had intentions to be out at night. He was determined to keep me safe by having me reek of my humanness instead of perfumed by my otherness, my faery blood.

Especially after hearing the tales from my first existence, Fintan had become cautious and concerned about my welfare, trying to help me navigate the ins and outs of the supe world with as much ease as supernatural catnip – as he had called me – could. Gran had done the opposite, not realizing how involved Fintan was in my life – or of my other life at all – replicating her previous actions by attempting to shield me from the harshness of the world, keeping me in the dark. It was… difficult to suffer, knowing that it had only served to cause me pain – hell, Pam had attacked me because I thought I was besting a human, not a vampire! And while that was ultimately Pam's fault – not Gran's – my grandmother's unwillingness to supply me with vital information had tipped the scales out of my favor. And now?

Now she was… compromised – to put it succinctly.

I stretched, feigning waking up from a deep sleep, and yawned flapping my hand over the space in front of my mouth before I answered her entreaty.

"Gran," I said with more seriousness than I had meant to intonate, "I think it's about time for me to move out," She opened her mouth to protest, but I hushed her with the raise of my hand, asking for her silence while I continued, "I'm a twenty-two year old woman, and I need to strike out on my own, find my path in life. I know you love me and I love you," I clasped her hands in mine, seeking her eyes, hoping she would find comfort in the warmth of my countenance, "But you need time with Fintan, and I need time by myself. Y'all have been taking care of me long enough, and I appreciate the hell outta y'all," She winced, as I expected, at my use of the word 'hell' to punctuate my conviction, "but it's time. Do you understand, Gran? It's time."

My soliloquy ended in a hushed whisper; I could only hope that she would not question my intentions. How could I tell her that she had been glamoured? Tricked into serving the wishes of some unknown vampire who surely had purposes to obtain me? I knew it was narcissistic to believe myself the cause and effect of my Gran's submission to the will of someone else, but I had learned enough in my other reality to ascribe blame where it lied – with me. Hell, this whole reality was the product of my ignorance – if only I'd known the faeries had been so instrumental in my life, I would've never even uttered such a silly wish – gotten everyone a new world that no one saw the differences in but me.

"Oh, baby girl," Gran responded, tears evident in her eyes and tone, "I expected this day would come eventually, although I hoped beyond reason that it never would. You have my blessing, of course, to carve out your own path. You're right; you are a strong young woman and it's time for you to claim your independence, grab it by both hands and conquer it. I'd like to talk to you out of your decision, but I'm just too proud of you, as always, to stop you from becoming the person God means for you to be."

"Thank you, Gran," And I was infinitely grateful that everything had gone off without a hitch, embracing her in my arms as we both cried out our sorrow at having to part from each other.

I broke the silence between us after ten minutes or so.

"I've already found a place," I lied, "It's close to Shreveport, near my new job working for Desmond," I half-truthed; he wanted me to work from him – he said so in his letter – and I intended to accept, especially after the night's events.

"Oh…" She replied despondently, tugging at my heartstrings, "So you're leaving soon?"

"Today, Gran," I wasn't exactly telling complete untruths because I knew I needed out as soon as possible, "I've got a moving truck coming in a couple of hours," Lying outright, feeling like an awful Christian, but steeled in my resolve, reticent to stay for another nightfall.

"So quickly…"

Fintan appeared at Gran's side, tucking her into his form, holding her. He spoke before she could resume.

"Of course, my dear granddaughter; whatever you need, we will provide. You must go and grab at your own life. We are so proud. Oh so proud," Tipping his head down to kiss my Gran on top of her head.

I smiled at him; he knew I was lying and he didn't care – I guessed he had expected this eventually, especially once I had completely regained myself.

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* * *

"Dezzie?"

"My dear, how are you?"

"I'm well," My southern sensibilities overtaking my desire to belie my fortitude, to tell him I was truly in shambles and effectively homeless, "How have you been?"

"Ready for your call," Desmond responded, a cryptic air in his tone and words, "What can I do for you? Are you willing to accept my offer?"

I thumbed at the necklace about my collar – thinking, as always, of Eric.

"Yes, but I need an advance. I told Gran I was moving out today. I know it's last minute, Des, but she has been glamoured by a vampire and I didn't know what else to do. There was one in my woods last night. I narrowly escaped with my…"

He cut me off without pretense.

"You must get away from the farmhouse as soon as possible; I understand. I will secure lodgings post haste. I believe a friend of mine, Octavia Fant, has a young apprentice, Amelia Broadway, who is in need of a roommate. I will inquire on your behalf and pay any needed securities up front. Do not worry about any moving services. There is a werewolf, Jackson Herveaux, in my debt; I will offer to clear it if he makes himself available to you today and no later – although I imagine he will send his son, Alcide. Either way, one of the two of them will make short work of gathering your belongings from Hummingbird Lane and transporting them to a new residence in Shreveport."

"But what if this… Amelia," I repeated her name, not sure if I got it right, "doesn't need a roommate? Then what?"

"Oh my dear, do not trouble yourself. Collect your valuables and prepare for the move. You will have a home in Shreveport whether or not the witch accepts your offer. I will find you a suitable home, protected from the vampires."

I didn't exactly like it – feeling like a kept woman – but what choice did I have? If it was between sleeping at the house at Hummingbird Lane – worrying the unknown vampire would enter at any time and rip my throat out – or allowing Desmond, my godfather and confidante, to find me alternative housing so I could rest easy – with a modicum of control over who entered and exited – the choice was easy. Yes, I'd pick me in Shreveport – even with complications abound – over me dead every day of the week.

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* * *

 _Months later…_

Amelia was a loud broadcaster and it made it hard to concentrate – even when I was sleeping; the bags under my eyes were a testament to her ability to run a constant stream of internal dialogue. She routinely tested the resilience of my carefully-constructed shields, the telepathic fortifications I'd thought I had mastered; in short, she was really trying my patience, and winning at it – while I was most certainly on the losing end.

But I really liked her and, despite her inability to not think loud thoughts, she was a great roommate – we had a lot in common; it was an easy match.

We could talk about anything and everything – and we did. She loved hearing about me and Eric, and honestly I loved getting to talk about him. It helped hope to return to me, watching her sit on the edge of her seat with bated breath as I regaled her with stories from what all-in-all had been a short period of time basking in the love of a dichotomous man – someone capable of overwhelming cruelties but also compassions, at least when it came to me.

Amelia listened with rapt attention, as if I was weaving the most intricate and magical tale she'd ever heard in her entire life. She wept with me, holding me when despondency clutched my heart as my anxieties whispered hateful and awful insecurities inside me – telling me that I had not found Eric, even after being immersed into Desmond's world working alongside him, because it was not destined to be, because he was not mine.

I knew better, but it didn't stop those musings from their attempts to upset me.

In my heart and soul, I would always be Eric's, and I refused to date – much to the chagrin of Alcide Herveaux, the werewolf from Jackson who had helped me move to Shreveport. He had settled for the only thing I would offer him – my friendship – but we both knew he expected in time all my walls would crumble, and I would accept his affections. Only one of us seemed to understand that was a pipedream – namely me. It's not that I was going to devote myself to a loveless life, but I was holding out hope that Fate still had eyes for me and Eric.

But even if she didn't, someone did.

Little did I know, Amelia had started her own ministrations in the quest to reunite me with my love, my heart – Eric. And with the best of intentions, she did more damage than I ever could've imagined, wreaking magical havoc ironically in the same tenor I had done to myself – by asking the powers that be to bring me back something I had lost.

Someday, maybe, we would both learn to be a little more specific in our dealings with magic.

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* * *

Driving home from an exhaustingly long day of work for Desmond, I felt a wave of confusion and fury ripple through me with such force that I cried out from the suddenness of it along with its intensity. I nearly clipped the car beside me as I veered off the road and into an embankment, panting with each and every breath as I tried to reconcile the newly entrenched emotions swirling through my mind with what I vehemently told myself couldn't be true.

The bond.

It was back; and if I was reading it correctly, Eric was fucking pissed, confused, and frustrated – me too, Mister Sheriff Vampire, me too. My powers crackled, once again, in my palms as his fury coursed through me, melting the phone Desmond had purchased for me into a puddle of plastic and metal before I could call anyone for help.

"Fucking hell!"

I screamed out, allowing myself to curse, despite my displeasure of expletives – sometimes they had a time and place. I slammed my shields up – effectively ending the unceremonious lightshow that had erupted from my hands – with such force it knocked the breath right out of me.

Still I fought to settle myself down, as Eric's overpowering feelings seeped into me even through our muted bond, threatening to rent me apart from the inside. I held them at bay, but just barely.

What the hell had happened?

And then, inexplicably, I thought of Bob – the furry feline Amelia had inadvertently made out of a man – and I felt pretty sure that I knew who was responsible for the mindfuck that Eric and I had just experienced.

The rage that followed at that realization was completely my own.

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 _A/N: Oh Amelia; she means well, but... (at least this time, she gave the bond back instead of helping to take it away!)_

 _Thanks to Mrskroy for editing, and all readers and reviewers alike! Y'all keep this wonderful fandom going!_


	30. New Friends, Old Enemies

My rage was palpable, consuming and absolute.

It was met with a gentle thrumming impossible to ignore – Eric was tapping at the bond, tugging it – curiously searching for its source; me. I mentally leaned into his attentions – knowing that I shouldn't – only to be struck with the strangest sensation turned realization – he was nearer than I would have expected, and quickly closing the gap space. Eyes wide, I scrambled to start the car – get out of the embankment and back on the road – anxious to increase the ever diminishing distance between us, discovering the wheel was taut and the key simply refused to budge, unable to engage the alternator to ignite the engine.

My brother had been adamant about teaching me car things just in case I ever got in a pinch, but I had not been a studious pupil – I regretted my feigned interest in his lessons. I screwed my eyes shut, seeking memories that didn't materialize. Dammit to heck, what had Jase told me to do when everything locked up?

I couldn't remember what he'd said for the life of me – as I began to literally concern myself with thoughts about my safety. Eric's fury had returned – doubly with a renewed intensity – dripping steadily through my shields. Panic and disquiet began to settle within me – of course, he'd be angry; he had been thrust headfirst into a bond he didn't remember signing up for. Eric's own admittance, from our previous life, echoed through my mind – he'd never fully bonded to anyone but me because he'd been quite selfish with his blood – and I desperately fought to drown it out with my own reassurances.

'Eric would never hurt me; he would never hurt me…'

I chanted the phrase over and over in my head, trying everything I could think of to unlock the steering column – pumping the breaks, wrenching the wheel to one side and then the other, attempting to force the key through brute strength – all to no avail. I overexerted myself; my breath slipping out in rasps as I screamed my frustrations, striking the dashboard with my fists as I slumped forward. I had been unceremoniously and utterly bested by an almost worthless piece of machinery, my junker of a car. I imagined when Eric found me, he'd rip the car into scrap metal, make it fit for the junkyard. I knew I wasn't over-exaggerating his reaction – his ire was nearly consuming me. I itched to run, but vampires were fast, impossible to outmatch I'm a foot race; in short I felt doomed, out of options.

'You don't need the car to get away…'

A voice sounding unlike my own whispered in my head; I shrugged off the unnerving possibility that someone might be trying to help me telepathically – the only mind readers I knew would have come to get me or taken up arms to defend me, not offered me advice. Dumbstruck for a second, I paused, spying the melted phone I had thrown into the passenger seat – my powers! I clapped my hand against my forehead, to visibly punctuate my lightbulb-lit moment; my powers were back, which meant – if they were like before – that I could teleport away from the car and go… somewhere, anywhere, far far away. I nervously tapped my foot as I struggled to pick a where. I had to know it, feel safe there, be able to conjure an image – the design, inner furnishings, and layout of the room – in my mind and see myself in the space.

The farmhouse was out – despite Octavia's investigations into how to break the glamour gripping Gran's mind, she had yet to find success, and we still had no idea who exactly could enter Gran's house – I'd hoped at one time it was Eric, but now I was slightly frightened by that prospect. Jason's home was an unwavering no; no way, even to save life and limb, would I risk catching my older brother in flagrante with whatever girl he'd convinced to roll in the hay with him, not after the last time – he seriously needed to start locking his doors. I sighed, irritation rife in my timbre; my best choice, if I was willing to call it that, was to teleport to the apartment I shared with Amelia. I grimaced at the idea but I didn't have any alternatives. I was still freaking pissed at Amelia and although I would have preferred to let my anger subside before facing her, I guess it just wasn't in the cards.

I knew I couldn't waste any more time searching for another option.

Eric's frustrations had transformed and taken on a new and frightening tenor; his feelings were… red and snarly. I'd never experienced such a swirl of colors from him – Weres and Sam, but not Eric. It was as if his feelings had breached his sanity – and any semblance of his remaining humanities was gone. There were no words for the terror ripping through me, which – if I was reading our tie correctly – was fueling his eagerness and fervor, like a wolf hunting its weaker prey. Whatever beast had overtaken Eric wanted me for possessing his blood, sharing the bond – that coupled with my fairy smell and intoxicating blood – had me sure I stood zero chance of surviving our encounter.

'He's not Eric anymore; his monster controls him now...'

I had no intentions of making introductions to his basest instincts, the demon he housed after he'd been turned into a vampire. Eric himself had insisted he was more monster than man – he was wrong overall, of course – he wasn't a monster or a man; he was a vampire – but maybe I still hadn't fully accepted that it meant he was straddling the fence between both sides of himself, easily swayed towards one or the other given the right conditions. I needed to come to terms with that, embrace both his sides, especially since his darker side seemed more prevalent in my new reality. Or maybe in some way I already had – I'd forgiven Pam for her attack; wasn't that the crux of my reasoning? It was, but she hadn't seemed even half as feral or savage as Eric was now; it was different, no matter how much I wanted to pretend it was the same.

Focus, Stackhouse; who cares about that right now? – I asked myself – you need to get out of here; now!

Shaking and panic-stricken, I struggled to picture my bedroom, thinking of my flowered bedspread, the plush white rug under my platform bed, the teddy bear Alcide had won for me at a carnival – the watercolor picture of Eric I had painted from memory. A tingling hummed under my skin – my power igniting, threatening to erupt – and I felt the unmistakable and familiar feeling of 'popping' washing over me, the sound of air displacement ringing through my ears – relief flooding my mind.

But it was too late; the sand in the hourglass that was my time to flee had run out. Darkness consumed my vision as someone attacked me from behind, thwacking the back of my head with what I assumed must have been a very heavy object. I didn't even have a chance to turn back to catch a glimpse of my assailant before I was out like a light.

Fuck.

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Woozy and light-headed, I floated in and out of consciousness experiencing the world in patchy splotches of glowing twinkles and hushed whispers as someone crouched over me, slipping a needle into the inner elbow of my arm, filling my veins with a cold ooze that coursed through my body, just under the thin layer of my skin. Every so often, the liquid burned and seared inside me, causing me to call out and writhe autonomically during my sleepless oblivion – like it was warring with some other part of me, battling for dominance.

"Bloodlust…"

What? I wanted to say, but my lips refused to formulate and produce the words sitting on the edge of my tongue. My eyes also were in congress with my tongue, staying shut despite my inner protestations that they open and absorb the scene.

"You would have never survived his bloodlust."

It made just as much sense as the speaker's previous utterance – none – and I grunted, trying to voice my misunderstanding. Was I drugged? Why was it so difficult to express myself, to come back from my dream world to reality? Fear didn't grip me, instead I felt numb, somewhat hollow, as if some part of me had been mostly removed, or at least waylaid, off to the side. And a new feeling had settled within me, a weird sort of calm that almost felt like appreciative satisfaction. I could barely feel Eric, and although I could accept that it might be a good thing, it made me a little sad – losing him – even though I knew it was for the best. His anger had been unhinged and the beast inside him was a threat to my safety. I didn't understand exactly where I was, but inherently I knew it wasn't with him.

That answer begged another question; who had kidnapped me?

"It's sheer dumb luck, girlie, that I found you before he did…"

The voice was only sounded vaguely familiar – like a ghost of someone I had once met. Without provocation or extra effort, I knew it wasn't from my current life, but from my past one. It made no sense, and I didn't bother to try to dissect its meaning.

I struggled to respond, instead throwing my body over to its other side – progress; that felt like progress.

My kidnapper – the woman – pinched me hard, and it smarted like hell so I cried out from the pain, unable to stifle my displeasure at the momentary intrusion upon my personal space and safety. She patted me in response, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was her effort at trying to calm me down, shepherd me through the discomfort she had caused. It did help, and I was grateful for those small attentions; my blood felt like it was boiling within me – I was barely holding onto reality, gripping it tightly by sheer force of will.

"He called me frantic and unhinged, and I knew – I just knew – you had to be the source of his frustrations. You have a certain penchant for getting into trouble, for making things more difficult than they need to be. It must be as exhausting for you as it has been for me. Whatever made you think that provoking a vampire – poking an easily angered and bloodthirsty creature by fashioning an unknown bond – was a good idea, I'll never understand."

Eric. She was definitely talking about Eric and his reaction to our newly ignited bond – freaking Amelia, messing with things she should have left alone. Once I was free – away from wherever I was – she was going to get a stern talking to; I was planning to throw stuff and everything. Maybe I should show her my newly acquired lightshow abilities…

"Not… my… fault…"

I finally managed to sputter out – my tongue choosing to participate in the previously one-sided conversation – my eyes crusted shut and my arms unwilling and unable to flake away the sleep that kept them closed. The fire in my veins had begun to subside, allowing me to think more clearly and reclaim my ability to move and speak. Consciousness mostly returning, I felt more than one thread spooling its feelings into my mind – one tie shut-down and mute, while the other was simply empty – like an unfilled space inside me. I had no idea what to make of my discovery. The only tie previously borne was to Eric, but nagging disagreement was rife within me – telling me I was wrong and that someone else had taken precedence within me, had replaced him to some extent.

"No, I supposed not."

My eyes fluttered open to find Dr. Ludwig standing over me, pulling the IV from my elbow, some of its contents falling to the floor. Shock did not begin to encapsulate the feelings that gripped me as I inspected the remnants of what she had put inside me – blood; she had transfused me with someone's blood. It explained everything, and yet not enough for my own peace of mind.

"What did you do?"

I queried; raw anger evidenced by my clipped utterance and tone.

"What was necessary."

I rolled my eyes in response; apparently long-winded explanations were for when she thought I was unconscious. My hand flew to the large bump on my head from where I was struck; pain radiating through my skull as I attempted to rub it away.

"Did you have to hit me so hard?"

"Yes."

The conversation was going nowhere fast, so I cut to the quick of it – the chase.

"How did you know I was the crux of Eric's problem? You and I have never met."

'Not in this reality at least...' I said in my head, finishing the unspoken portion of my sentence.

"That would be much more convenient, but you and I both know that's not exactly the truth. I recommended he bond with you to save your life," I'm sure that my mouth dropped open at her words, "Was it a cluviel dor? Is that how you restarted the world?"

Shocked didn't begin to define how I felt, and my face betrayed it – of that I was sure. Fintan had told me that no one would remember – just me – but obviously that wasn't exactly the truth of the situation. I sat up quickly, swiveling around to place my bare feet onto the tiled floor, careful to avoid stepping in the spilled blood – why did she take my shoes off?

"Excuse me?"

Being coy seemed like the best play under the circumstances; I wasn't sure why.

Dr. Ludwig sighed, exasperated – I guessed – at my pathetic effort to avoid her questions.

"Girlie, my people remember everything, including things thought lost. If we didn't, how could you have been warned about what you would experience in your new world? Who do you think fed that information to your grandfather? It's not as if fairies are the keepers of record. No, that title is held by my people, and my people alone."

"Sorry," I apologized, looking away from her, feeling ashamed to some degree; I knew firsthand what it was like to have the world uprooted out and changed in the blink of an eye – jarring didn't even begin to describe it.

"Don't be."

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My reignited powers coupled with Dr. Ludwig's ministrations reinforced the mental barriers I had erected against the emotional link I shared with Eric, allowing my telepathic shields to block him entirely. His presence wasn't gone per se, but our bond's volume had been muted, hushed from a dull roar to a small whisper.

But I wasn't alone in myself; I had a new friend of sorts.

It turned out that Dr. Ludwig had transfused me with the blood of a much older vampire – named Thalia – to hide me from Eric after he had succumbed to bloodlust. My furrowed brow begged an explanation and she offered that bloodlust was a frenzied state during which vampires lost themselves, seeking out blood without impunity to satiate their innate desire to destroy – it was why he had felt inhuman, like a monster.

"He was not himself."

She had nodded her agreement.

Before shoving me out the door, Dr. Ludwig had thrust into my hand a prescriptive bottle full of pills with a name I couldn't pronounce or spell. They tasted awful, but Dr. Ludwig assured that they would tamp down any lingering smells from the vampire blood swirling within me.

"One every twelve hours with a full glass of water."

Thalia met me outside after Dr. Ludwig slammed the door shut behind me. She grabbed at my hand, wincing at the contact – which confused me to no end since she had initiated it – dragging me along behind her, into the woods.

My light crackled in my palms; her actions scared me, and defied rationalization – had she helped save my life so she could kill me herself?

"Quit, fairy."

Her monotonous tone provided the smallest modicum of comfort, and I drew my powers back inside me, submitting to her request. A scowl tore across her countenance, but I swore for a brief second that I had spotted a smile – something I expected was quite the rare occurrence. When we reached a clearing, she pulled me to the ground with her, shuffling across from me to sit with her legs crossed.

"You and I tied tight now."

Thalia pointed back and forth between us, gesticulating in an effort to overcome any language barriers. Her forefinger directed at me, she clarified her intentions regarding our newly formed blood tie.

"Not mine. The North Man's. I keep you safe for him, from him. I hunt you down by his scent and lead the little doctor to you. I offer my blood. You are welcome."

I chuckled; she wasn't demanding a thank you, but of course I still offered one, "Thank you, Thalia; I appreciate it."

She nodded her acceptance.

"I did not kill you; I wanted to," I had no words; struck dumb momentarily by her utterance, "Thought his blood stolen. Doctor said no, but the North Man assured yes. I would have bathed in blood; fairies delicious for vampires – you smell sweet."

She expounded in greater detail, testing my intestinal fortitude – it was not up to snuff, and I upchucked the meager contents of my stomach. Luckily, Thalia took the hint, and stopped her graphic description of my would-be death.

"Not used to humans. You need to toughen up. The North Man demands strong women. You be stronger for him."

Thalia pricked the tip of her finger, a drop of blood pooling at the tip – her form of an apology, I assumed. Scooting closer to me, she swept my hair to the side and applied her ancient blood directly to the laceration on my noggin. I thanked her, but she shrugged it off.

"Must protect the North Man's woman."

I tried to explain he wasn't exactly mine in this reality, but she silenced me on the matter.

"You are his; he is yours – he will learn in time."

But in spite of her remarks, Thalia refused, curtly and with expletives, to tell me where Eric was, stating in not so many words that a change was coming that would allow the vampires to walk amongst the living without fear of reprisal – the Great Revelation, she called it.

"You go now," Thalia said, after staring at me, trying to study something in my expression I supposed, for several awkward minutes.

I popped back to my car – discovering that Thalia's blood had intensified my magics, making them easier to summon and wield – and drove home without further incident, a little irritated that the key now turned without effort. Amelia was fast asleep when I crept quietly into our apartment, and since my anger had dissipated several hours earlier, I didn't rouse her, deciding it was best for me to keep the details of my night – about Thalia, Dr. Ludwig, the bond – to myself.

The next morning when Amelia asked me if I had _found_ anything, I laughed and told her 'no, I had yet to find my sanity.' After donning a small frown, she laughed along, dropping the matter entirely.

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 _Almost a year later…_

"OMG, you're not gonna believe it, Sookie. Tell me you're seeing this! C'mon, this is best thing ever! You're gonna die! You're just gonna die! Are you even watching the freaking news right now?!"

Amelia practically screamed at me when I answered her phone call, working alone after hours at Desmond's office to file away the last bit of paperwork for the week. I didn't respond to her question immediately because I wasn't sure if she was done talking, but Amelia interpreted my short silence as an indication that I did not know what she was referring to and continued her frenzied yelling. I held the small phone away from my ear; a foot away, and I could still hear her just fine. Loud thinker, loud talker.

"The vampires, Sookie! They've come out of the closet! Errr… well... you know what I mean! They're out in the open now! Some weird scientific breakthrough called True Blood's letting them survive without human blood," I doubted that highly, "And now they're gonna walk among us," No, Amelia, they already were doing that, "Maybe you can find Eric now!"

She tugged at my heartstrings. Eric. I still could not understand how my 6'4" vampire had evaded detection over the years, but I had imagined it was because he'd been hiding – now there would be no reason for him to hide. Happiness overwhelmed me, and I quickly tamped it down as not one, but two taps thrummed through my mind – shit, both Thalia and Eric had felt my momentary joy.

My call waiting flashed "Ludwig" at me as Amelia rambled on and on about the Great Revelation and what it could mean for my nonexistent love life.

"Meels? Amelia? Amelia. Amelia! AMELIA!" I said, the volume of my voice crescendoing with each attempt to garner her attention; I found myself sometimes amazed at her inability be distracted when she was excited.

"Yeah?"

"Meels, I've got another call I need to take. But you're right; that's great news!"

My tone barely matched my words, but Amelia didn't question it, offering a quick 'bye' before hanging up the phone. I quickly accepted the other call, already knowing what the doctor was going to say, launching into a make-shift sort of apology before she had the chance to chastise me.

"I know, I know…" I could have kicked myself for being so discourteous; my Gran would have words with me if she discovered I'd answered the phone without a proper greeting.

"Control yourself."

Dr. Ludwig clipped out before she hung up.

"Rude."

I said out loud to myself before setting the phone down on my cubical desk, but she was right – I needed to regulate my reactions better. In a year, I'd only lost it a handful of times, but each time Eric had called Ludwig, enraged that she had yet to find the source of his unidentified malady. I hated that I was inadvertently causing him turmoil and discontent, scaring him – even though no one would deign to tell me so, I knew it to be true.

After shuffling the last bit of paperwork into the metal filing cabinet, I sat down in one of the office chairs, staring off into space as Amelia's news settled within me. I didn't remember traveling home that night; my mind awash with the undeniable prospect of meeting my vampire lover – fantasies of a sexual nature overtaking my reality. I was a twenty-three year old virgin – and dammit to hell if I wasn't wound up too tight for comfort from my lack of a sex life. I desperately need to unspool, so to speak.

Honestly, if I didn't throw myself at Eric the second I saw him, I was going to be really proud of myself.

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 _The next night…_

Walking across the open-aired top-level of the parking garage, heading to my car after another long day at the office, I casted out my mental net to find several voids within a couple hundred yards of me. I bit back my shock, reminding myself that the Great Revelation had allowed vampires to effectively join society at large, which meant I should expect to almost always find at least one within striking distance when the sun went down.

The parking garage was dim, peppered lights illuminating only the areas by the entry and exits – my car was next to neither, effectively hidden under the starless sky. I flicked on my phone's flashlight to help guide my path, hoping to quell my irrational fear of the dark.

"Miss Stackhouse!"

I heard a vampire call after me as I thrust my key into the car door to unlock it, dropping my phone accidentally. My first thought was that he was another one of Desmond's new clients looking for advice I would be unable to give – many vampires had contacted my godfather within the last twenty-four hours looking for representation.

I sank to the ground to retrieve it – how had it ended up _under_ the car? I struggled and stretched to reclaim my cell phone, pulling it back to me by the pads of my fingertips. When I stood up, swatting away the dirt collected on my blouse, the vampire had closed the space between us. I stifled the gasp that threatened to erupt when I spotted who it was – Bill.

"Might I trouble you for a second of your time?"

"No," I said my voice quaking from shock as I fought to maintain my composure, "I'm sorry, but I'm not licensed to offer legal counsel. Mr. Cataliades has extended hours going into effect next week to accommodate the influx of vampire clients that have requested his services since the announcement last night. You should call and make an appointment."

Inherently, I understood how he had found me. I had been registered, at Desmond's behest, as a supernatural – 'powers unknown' – which meant that my whereabouts were a matter of public record. While he had yet to make his intentions known, I expected they were not honorable – and I was right.

"I'm not interested in the lawyer; I'm here for you."

Bill flashed his fangs at me as he grabbed for my wrists, circling them with his grimy hands, yanking me towards him. I hissed at the contact, sickened – much like I had been with Sam – at even the mere thought of him touching me.

I heard the tell-tale sizzle of my magics collecting within me.

Internally I scrambled to regain control of my emotions, which were quickly spinning out of control. Tugging; one of the two vampires was pulling at the string in my mind – I imagined it was Thalia since it wasn't accompanied by a phone call. I slammed my shields up as high as possible, hoping my emotions wouldn't spill over the top. The last thing I needed right now was another vampire.

"Let me go!"

I screamed, light bursting out of my hands as I wrenched them away and popped across the parking lot, out of his reach. His burning flesh smelled awful, but it was also satisfying. Bill's face contorted from pain to rage, as he vamped behind me, grasping me roughly by the hair, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"You will come with me and submit."

I chuckled at Bill's attempt to glamour me, which was a mistake I quickly regretted as he backhanded me, throwing me clear across the lot, dislocating my jaw and, on impact, my shoulder. My skin blistered and scraped against the still searing concrete as I landed – taking my flesh and somehow my Tiffany's necklace with it. Damn Louisiana's hot summer sun. My lesions coupled with pain of my other injuries caused me to yelp out in agony.

"Delicious… Your screams are almost as tantalizing as your fairy scent..."

Bill shuddered – almost involuntarily – at sound of my cries and rubbed himself roughly through his pants as he stalked towards me, licking his fangs and his lips as he took in my bloodied form. Gross.

My damaged arm swung lifelessly at my side as I rose to my feet. Blood dribbled from the corner of my mouth as I held my jaw in place with my forearm, while summoning a fireball into the palm of the same hand. I unleashed my light with a throaty grunt, missing Bill entirely as he vamped out of its path – setting a fire in the far corner where a small patch of grass had been growing. Smoke billowed instantly, undulating towards the midnight black sky. Foolishly, I watched it for a second too long, allowing my mistake to distract me, giving Bill the opening to exploit. He grabbed me from behind, grinding his crotch into my butt before tearing his fangs into my neck over and over, sucking greedily at the wounds he inflicted, letting blood pour down my front and back.

Mutinous tears slipped from my eyes, for oh so many reasons – the least of which being the burning pain from his bite. My shields fell – I couldn't muster the energy to hold them – and the previous tug at the tie in my mind became forceful, compounding the pain radiating through me. I tried to pop away from Bill, but his fangs were gripped too tightly in my skin for me to break from his hold. I zapped him with my lightshow, but it sputtered and waned; he was draining my powers along with my blood. His response to my efforts to dissuade him from his attack echoed the taunt I had similarly elicited from Eric's maker – Appius.

"Mmmm… That tickles… If I'd known you'd be this much fun, Sookeh," Oh my gosh, learn how to pronounce my name; I wanted to quip at him, but my broken jaw made that impossible, "I'd have taken you that night at the farmhouse, made you mine – my vampire child. Oh well, no use fretting over lost time, sweetheart; we'll have eternity after tonight. You'll be an amazing vampire; I'll be envied by all."

'No! No! No! No!'

I screamed in my head; my eyes widening as fear flooded through me, drowning me. I didn't know why Bill had waited until now to come after me – and I didn't want to know – there were other, more pressing questions left to be answered. Could faeries even be turned? My gut instinct said no, but maybe that was wishful thinking. Either way, it seemed I was going to find out.

A minute passed by as Bill continued to divest my body of its lifeforce, but it felt like an hour. I couldn't even lift my arms, and I had all but given up. I'd lost my first world to end up attached to Bill? It felt all kinds of wrong... like a cruel joke...

"Let her go, Compton."

My ears, still ringing from the force of Bill's backhand, perked up at hearing the deep, self-assured, and authoritative voice. Vision bespeckled by spots, I strained to identify the speaker by timbre alone.

"She is mine, Sheriff. This does not concern you."

Bill answered brusquely, clinging to me so tightly I cried out reflexively despite my limp jaw and weakened state. However, my mind was otherwise occupied - Sheriff? Did that mean...

"That is where you're wrong."

And then I knew with certainty who my unobserved hero was – _Eric_.

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 _A/N: As always many thanks to my awesome beta Mrskroy and also to every single reader and reviewer._


	31. The Quietus and the Fugue

Bill tightened his hold on me, mimicking Eric's words in a disrespectful and sarcastic tone as his nails pricked my flesh. He licked at my neck wound like a dog lapping at cool water during the summer months – with vigor and excitement. In truth, it felt like his display was over exaggerated and for Eric's benefit more than his own – definitely not for mine. Although the festering hole in my skin began to close from the healing properties in his saliva, Bill's actions were akin to twisting the lid back onto the soda he intended to finish later – keeping me alive and fresh – he was not attempting to provide me any ounce of comfort or relief. And he didn't.

Dammit to heck if Bill's bite didn't still smart like hell.

Eric hissed and launched himself at us – me and Bill – pushing both of us back with an open-palmed shove while trying to divest me from my attacker's grasp. But Bill's arm was snaked about my waist, pressing me against him, melding our forms together so we were more one than two. Bill vaulted us backwards but then turned, shielding me from Eric's long reach, spinning me out of his arms – as if I was a willing dance partner, not a battered hostage – in the opposite direction from my car and Eric, towards a dimly lit corner of the parking structure. As I slid across the ground, rocks and dirt collected in my cement burns, causing me to huff out soft sobs and lay still in the spot where I finally halted to a stop.

"Do not go anywhere, sweetheart," Bill growled at me, "We are not yet finished."

Dislocated shoulder and jaw, scrapes covering the expanse my exposed skin, a slightly seeping bite hole in my neck, and extensive blood loss to boot – I was a hot mess. I laughed a bit internally at the absurdity of his supposed edict; I could barely move a muscle, let alone try to leave. If it was up to me, I'd be knee deep in morphine right now, not waiting for a vampire to claim me as his love child, especially not that creepazoid.

What a fucking lunatic.

"Protect the girl," Eric ordered an unseen, ally – I presumed – who vamped from the shadows and to my side before Bill could cross the expanse of the roof to stop her – Thalia. Eric growled ominously as he donned a fanged and threatening countenance, visually consuming Bill's lightly trembling form, "Compton is mine."

He turned, softening his expression, to waggle his eyebrows at me and wink – what a freaking flirt my vampire was!

"Such trouble always."

Thalia grunted at me, as she threw me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes being carried to a boiling pot in the kitchen. I shrieked in response – fucking broken ribs, if that didn't take the cake. I had no doubts that the pain of the splintered bones poking into my muscles had been superseded, masked, by all my other ailments, but Thalia's rough treatment was enough to give them the top stop on my "fuck that hurts" meter. Sensibilities be damned; I deserved my curse words at that moment.

"You can't fucking take her!"|"Don't fucking hurt her!"

Bill and Eric each screamed respectively, almost in unison with one another, in Thalia's direction as a raspy cry snuck past my bruised and bloody lips. While Eric's tone was properly menacing, full of chastisement, Bill sounded like a whiny child begging his parent not to confiscate his favorite toy – somehow, I knew inherently that it was precisely his sentiment behind his frantic utterance. Thalia listened to neither of them – literally, if her lack of acknowledgement was any indication – handling me roughly and without ceremony. In fairness, she had admitted to me previously that human interactions were not exactly a daily occurrence in her world, and she _was_ trying to save my life.

She meandered over to my car, taking her sweet time, and tossed me into the back seat. I cried out again, despite my attempt to stifle the wail.

"Oh," She offered as I howled in agony once again, "Forgot. Mostly human."

No blood, no apology, no "there, there" accompanied by an unsympathetic pat on the back. It had me fuming, channeling and misdirecting my rage unfairly towards Thalia – seeing red, and not just because of the blood trickling into my swollen, blurry eyes. I swore to myself once I had healed I was going to fucking light Thalia up until she learned some fucking gentleness. It made me feel better, fantasizing about lobbing Thalia across a field like one of Jason's footballs, but I knew I'd never have the nerve to go through with it – from what I'd experienced Thalia was fucking scary; and that was her good side.

What did her bad side look like? I for one did not want to find out firsthand.

"You could come with us, back to the Realm. Let me take you away. We can protect you from the vampires."

A tinkling lilt rang through my head. It was the same voice from almost a year ago, before Dr. Ludwig muted my reawakened bond with Eric – thanks Amelia, I thought not so much sarcastically, but genuinely. If not for my blood ties, I would have fallen victim to Bill – become his vampiric child – of that I was certain. The voice grated on my nerves, not because it wasn't jingling and beautiful – it was – but because I hadn't trusted the speaker before, and I definitely didn't trust her now. How dare she think I wanted the help of an unknown individual, who for all I knew was more enemy than friend...? I found the source, and shoved her mentally out of my head as forcefully as I could muster. I heard her "owwww" echoing in the back of my mind as she was extracted.

There's your answer, you unwelcome faery bitch.

Fintan had explained the faeries weren't exactly telepathic, but they had hardlines into the minds of their kin – similar to the maker-child bond between vampires and their progeny – which meant I was somehow related to the intrusive, and possibly eavesdropping, woman who only seemed to have something to say when she was a day late and a buck short. I didn't want help from any faery, and I wouldn't ever accept it after Niall's creepy "mother" thing in Purgatory – but even then, it was a little late to send in the cavalry to come rescue me; my heroes were already here.

"You watch," Thalia clipped out at me, noticing I'd drifted off into my own thoughts – an amusement playing in her eyes that was out of congress with her tone. Anyone could plainly see this vampire loved a good fight.

"Ludwig... painkillers..." I sputtered out with great effort.

"No. Heart whoosh-whoosh strong and steady; you live long, no risk. No; must watch. All for you. He fight for what his. Then he heal you, not Thalia. You," She punctuated by gesticulating in my direction with the flick of a rigid forefinger, pointing me out to myself, "not mine.""

We had been over this, but I guessed she wanted to reiterate, to explain why she refused to abate my pain herself as whale-sized tears slipped from my eyes. Involuntary trembles and unabashed whimpers accompanied them, despite my attempts to still myself, to stop myself from exacerbating my internal injuries. Thalia leaned into the car to inspect the damage to my body – second guessing her statement – so there was some modicum of sympathy there. Apparently she didn't like what she had found.

"Three!"

Thalia yelled, taking a hold of my useless arm with both chilly hands, one on the wrist and one on my elbow wrenching it towards her and snapping it back into place before I could squeak out a curious 'what' or scream at her to stop – which may have been the point. She winked at me, obviously pleased with herself as I wriggled my fingers – light dancing in the tips. Finally able to physically relax – the wave that was my pain slowly receding – I curled into a comfortable fetal-positioned ball and rolled onto my side with ease, enjoying the feel of the soft cloth fabric against my tattered and bruised skin.

"Most people count the one and two instead of jumping straight to three without warning," I grumbled to myself loudly enough for her to hear me clearly without effort – which was on purpose, not giving two shits how much it hurt to do it. Directly and without a hint of derision, only warmth, I mustered a heartfelt, "Thank you," despite the unrelenting anguish it sent reeling through me.

Thalia shrugged, "Often cause; fix... not as fun. No move."

Then with an unexpected gentleness in her touch, and at vamp speed, Thalia cupped her hands to my cheeks, using her thumbs to deftly glide my jaw back into its socket – it was impressive and… gentle. The relief was instant, and I sighed, tonguing at the sore spot reflexively – unable to reconcile the fierce and fearsome vampire with the one who had just reset my body's ailments with almost surgical precision. She was an enigma, that Thalia.

"Better," She stated, not asking a question of me, but admiring her adept ability to somewhat knit me back together without causing further breakage or using blood – just how much time did she and Dr. Ludwig spend together... "Now. Focus. Watch your North Man kill the shit-piece fucker."

 _My_ North Man; _my_ Eric...

Thalia's early utterance finally breached my consciousness, filling the spot where my agony had demanded residence; her words settling within me – Eric; she said he was fighting for what was 'his'. Did he… remember me? Was that too much to hope for? I wasn't going to tilt at windmills by making assumptions or fantasizing about a stunning twist of fate – so instead I asked her outright, directly.

"Thalia, does Eric… remember me?"

My glacial blue eyes glistened, stinging with unshed tears, as I sought Thalia's for her answer; figuratively, she held my stilled heart – unwilling to beat in the second she remained silent, looking pensive as she formulated her response. Her chocolate brown eyes gazed into mine, almost daring me to challenge her, and then they drifted off – penetrating through me, restarting my aching heart.

"The North Man not remember many things, but he feel bonded scared in blood and he come save her."

* * *

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* * *

Eric and Bill had been exchanging blows – my vampire toying with my attacker like a cat plays with a mouse – while my attentions had been diverted towards my pain, the fairy mind-intruder, and Thalia's odd nurse-like ministrations. But, as Thalia had requested, I scooted forward, sweeping my legs over the edge of my back seat – dangling them outside the car – as I sat up and slumped against the side of the opening to take in the savage, yet beautiful display of strength and love unfolding before my very eyes.

My heart fluttered seeing my vampire again, and my loins stirred watching him fight for me, imagining the reunion of our bodies and souls. In short, I was thinking sexy thoughts about the Viking god of a vampire man. The calloused hands he struck Bill with carried the affectionate and gentle fingers that would lightly glide over the curves of my body, eagerly cup my breasts and thumb at my nipples, slip inside me, beckon my orgasm from me...

Thalia thumped me on the back and I blushed a deep shade of crimson matching the tinge of the drying blood speckled about my skin – not because I was ashamed, but because I had been caught. She shook her finger at me with a blurring speed.

"No. Bad Sookie. Dirty with him later."

Definitely. Later.

I'd waited twenty three years to see Eric again and lose my virginity; watching his sinewy muscles flex was almost enough to make me come undone – almost, but not quite. My fantasies had not done him justice; he was a sculpted, toned, and chiseled statue of a man. In spite of all my injuries I was horny as hell, such was the undeniable effect of a sex god vampire. Thalia seethed as my feelings coursed through her, hating our blood tie – if her murderous scowl was any indication of her emotional state. She never bothered to don a placid countenance; I liked that about her. It was easy to read Thalia – mostly "I hate you" and "die" seemed to run through her head with every stare.

"Sorry."

I murmured, but I wasn't – not in the slightest. If I had distracted Eric, or gotten him hurt, then naturally I would have been, but he was beating Bill to a pulp like a mallet to a tomato. It was overkill for sure, but also a disturbingly satisfying endeavor, even just to watch. Moisture continued to pool between my scraped legs, and I shifted slightly, seeking relief from my aches – all of them. Thalia shot me a glance of pure annoyance, sniffing the air – ick – and shaking her head, admonishing me silently. I didn't care; it was Eric – who wouldn't find him exciting?

No one; that's who.

Eric moved with an unparalleled speed and grace as he brutally battered Bill's ugly mug against the concrete – which suffered from the blows almost as much as Bill's face – a crackling dent sprayed jagged rocks into the air in a swirl about them. In truth, the whole thing was reminiscent of a masterfully choreographed dance in which Eric was the star attraction. With sweat dripping off his abs and a teasing amount of flesh exposed by his tattered clothes, he certainly had attracted _my_ attentions. Bill looked less like an aggressor and more like a moron who had not memorized his steps or caught onto the beat, fumbling over his own feet as if he had quite literally been born yesterday during the announcement about the Great Revelation – the day the world's vampires officially 'came out of the coffin.'

Eric was his better in all ways.

Every time Bill would whip away, trying to dive after me, screaming over and over like a psycho about how I was "his," Eric was there, vamping in front of him, to throw him across the rooftop and away from me. It was obvious who was the stronger of the two, and that Eric was merely prolonging the fight to increase his pleasure, feed the beast rattling the cage inside him. Worried his feelings had once again turned feral, like they had the night the bond had been reignited, I tapped into our bond, something I hadn't allowed myself to do in what felt like ages to find there was an odd humming in his emotional tie, not unlike a numbness. It could not be compared to anything I had felt from anyone ever before, and I peered at him, wondering what was going through that beautiful head of his – was he on autopilot?

"She is mine! I want her! I waited for her, for the Great Revelation! She will come to love me as I love her once I take her to my side!"

Bill whined, clinging to and steadying himself against the balustrades fencing in the parking garage roof, panting in an overly human-like fashion – as if he had been pretending to be human so for long that he couldn't help but display the mannerisms usually ascribed to the living, those of us who actually needed to breathe. Was he a self-loathing vampire on top of being a complete psycho?

My vote was yes.

"Oh Compton, how wrong you are. That beautiful woman is MY bonded, and you," Eric's lips curled in a fangy and foreboding grin as he stalked towards Bill at a speed slow enough to heighten the terror roiling off Bill in buckets, "Have committed a blood offense against her, which means I can take your head without impunity or fear of reprisal."

Bonded – I had missed hearing that word. I wasn't sure what exactly fell into the 'many things' Eric didn't remember, but he certainly had accepted our connection – a large blessing in and of itself.

Thalia may as well have been bouncing up and down as she heard Eric's threat, drumming on the trunk of my car – denting it for sure – as if she was soundtracking Bill's impending demise, offering a surprisingly catchy beat to punctuate each step Eric took to close the space between himself and the vampire he intended to deliver the true death. My car wasn't a half-bad beat box – tha-da-thump thump thump – but I only had the one, so I wasn't exactly loving the damage she was causing.

"Thalia, stop!" I whisper-yelled.

She did not. Selective hearing, I imagined. I huffed out a sigh, letting it go. Maybe Desmond could give me an advance, and I could get a new car instead of the clunker hand-me-down from Jason I'd been driving around for the past seven years.

"Nooooooooo!" Bill wailed, looking over at me with the expression of a kicked-puppy, "Sweetheart, tell me it isn't true – that you haven't sullied yourself with the Viking!"

It was fleeting, but Eric's countenance donned an air of utter confusion before returning to a mirthful smile. Mine was sheer horror – practically stuck in that contortion – how dare Bill continue to speak about me as if we had been a couple or something. Gross, and no. My power sparked in my palms, but I tamped it down – this was Eric's kill, not mine, no matter how much I was itching to fry up that sick bastard again.

"Do NOT address my bonded in such a disrespectful manner. She is NOT your fucking sweetheart!"

Eric retorted back, advancing still, closing the small space between them until he was within a foot or so – arm's reach for the 6'4" vampire.

Thalia's drumming quickened, increasing from a human speed to a vampiric one. Tha-da-thump thump thump, tha-da-thump thump thump, tha-da-thump thump thump. If a vampire was capable of shitting his pants, Bill would have been. His injuries had debilitated him to such a degree he couldn't even muster the energy to fight – flight, his last hope for survival. His eyes widened as he scrambled to climb over the railing to jump off the roof. Silly vampire, I thought, as Eric grabbed him by the collar, lifting Bill off the ground with one arm while unsheathing his sword from its hidden spot – strapped to his back and under his clothing.

Bill writhed and struggled, kicking his legs in all directions; he lost those first.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

It was all that could be heard over Bill's cries as Eric divested him of body part after body part at each joint with a deft precision, legs and then an arm. Thalia cheered, while I shielded my eyes, allowing the sounds to tell me all I needed to know – Eric was cutting Bill apart at the seams. I heard the sword clatter with an echoing clang to the ground, and I peeked out from behind my hand.

"The good part," Thalia breathed out, and not to me.

Through laced fingers, I watched as Eric placed his hand over Bill's windpipe, squeezing tightly – much like Appius had done when he killed Pam in my other reality. I could barely stomach the parallel and doubled over, retching up the few bites of dinner I had found time to eat. Eric's eyes shot over in my direction, and he lessened his grip. In a blur, Eric's hand fisted Bill's hair instead and he twisted with an unfathomable strength – without strain, looking as if he was simply uncapping a soda – ripping Bill's head clean off.

As Bill crumbled to dust, Eric tore his bloodied shirt off and winked at me; once again, his attentions went straight to my feminine core. Damn, I wanted to touch him so badly, prove he was real and back – and mine again.

"You go," Thalia said, helping to pull me to my feet and pointing towards Eric, "Time now to make dirty."

Yes, ma'am; no argument here.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

I limped over to Eric, trying to run but finding my pain too unbearable to overcome even with the adrenaline surge rushing through my veins. Eric vamped to my side, and whooshed me into his arms bridal style, nuzzling his face against my neck, scenting me.

"You really are mine, aren't you?" He queried hopefully, his head still pressed into my hair, "You are gorgeous and you smell divine, like honey and sunlight."

My own face had been buried in the crook of his neck, but I pulled back from him and searched his eyes hunting for a glimmer of recognition, finding none, which dropped my heart to my stomach for a fraction of a second – but did it matter if he remembered me? No, I answered myself. He wanted me; that was the dream, the one that had haunted my fitful and restless sleep for the past years.

"I've always been yours."

It was the truth, and he smiled at me before capturing my lips for a quick kiss. I almost came from the contact – I was wound tighter than I realized apparently. He laughed – aware of his effect on me – hugging me closer into his chest and spinning us around, thrusting his fist into the air as if my flood of lust had been some kind of victory. Oh, just wait Viking, it's going to be mind-blowing when we consummate this relationship. He had a thousand years under his belt, but I had the ultimate wild card – I already knew what he liked, and I was going to turn that to my advantage, really wow him.

His head dove into my neck again; as he nipped and lightly bit along the length of my collarbone, the attentions sent shivers down my spine and tingles to my loins. God, I had missed him, and I sent a silent prayer to whoever would listen, thanking them for bringing him back to me. After the many lonely years of my second life, I finally felt whole again – complete and fulfilled.

"Mmmmm," Eric murmured, licking Bill's bite, closing it completely and consuming bits of my dried blood in the process – heightening our bond, and diminishing Thalia's tie, "I want to lick you, bite you, and rub myself all over you."

Me too, Mister Sheriff Vampire; me too.

His smile curved into a frown as his hand trailed lightly down my leg, ghosting over the many scrapes and burns caused when Bill backhanded me, sent me flying across the concrete still heated by the Louisiana sun. His fangs descended with a click, and he tore a hole at his wrist, offering it to me.

"Please," He said in a questioning tone, "Will you drink from me? I should not have let my bonded get injured. I am aggrieved that I failed you."

I latched onto his wrist, allowing the rich liquid to spill down my throat and knit my remaining wounds and damages back together from the inside – wondering why he seemed so… nervous; my Eric, even in our private moments, had only once been so raw and open with me. Here, we had an audience – Thalia, who was kicking dirt and Bill dust into the air, pretending she couldn't hear each and every word with her supernatural hearing – had time changed him so much? I dismissed the thought entirely; I didn't know him in this world, and it was unfair to assume he'd be exactly the same. I was going to have to get to know him again, and in truth, that sounded like an exciting endeavor.

"I am prostrate to admit, Lover, that I cannot recall your name."

Huh?

"Sookie."

I stopped myself from adding 'nice to meet you' even though Gran would spit nails if she knew I'd been so impolite. I couldn't place my finger on it, but something was… off about Eric. Something strange was going on, and I was afraid to find out what it was – burst the veritable bubble encapsulating us.

"Sookie…"

My name rolled off his tongue, sending electrically charged tingles down my spine and through my loins. Damn, I had missed him.

"Oh, Eric…"

"Eric…" He parroted, "Strong and timeless. Seems fitting; I like it."

Suddenly I understood why Eric came to save me, called me his bonded, and hadn't been soaked in a bloodlust fury. It wasn't that he had remembered me; it was because he had forgotten everything else.

Fuck.

* * *

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* * *

"Thalia..." Slowly, I confronted the stocky little warrior whose mouth was practically salivating after watching Eric rend Bill limb from limb. Her fangs were itching, and she was anxious to run off and hunt – anyone could see it, "You made it sound like Eric didn't remember me, but he doesn't remember anything! What the hell! _Any_ , not many; you should have said he doesn't remember _any_ things!"

I hissed harshly through gritted teeth to Thalia – trying to keep my voice low – as I watched Eric standing fifty feet or so away from us with his fingers in his ears like I'd asked him to do. Trusting and sweet – possibly able to hear everything anyways, but he pretended otherwise – bobbing his head as he hummed a tune, only God knows how he knew, outwardly happy as a lark and grinning like a Cheshire cat from ear to ear. It was as endearing as it was alarming; he was not like the stony vampire I once knew – he seemed... freed… but also vulnerable.

"Potato, tomato..." She chuckled at her own turn of phrase, and I wondered if she had butchered it on purpose, "Same enough," No, I thought, they're very much not, "The North Man not remember many… _any_ ," She elongated my offered substitute, sounding it out to replace her insufficient descriptor, rolling it on her tongue to accept it into her vocabulary, "…things. Memory gone. Caput."

Considered me floored, speechless; Thalia caught me before I fainted away and fell to the ground. I steadied myself in her arms, which were rigidly extended in front of her, her hands under my armpits, as if she was actually trying to hold me away from her and at bay, like she was afraid her actions might end in an unwanted hug.

Even though my head swam with lightness, I still managed to ask, "What happened to him?"

"Maybe Fate push, instead of waiting for pull?"

Thalia offered, releasing me to my feet, giving me the smallest look of pity in her usually steely brown eyes; somehow it made the situation seem that much direr and out of control – I liked it much better when she looked angry. But in general, Thalia didn't seem fazed at all by Eric's condition; it was as if someone had simply told her it was Tuesday or that the sky was blue. I, on the other hand, felt like my world had been flipped upside down; my mind scrambling to prove it simply wasn't so.

"But, Bill? He called him 'Compton'; he knew him. So maybe some memories linger…"

"No," Thalia admitted, looking away from me – almost conciliatory, "I followed; come to save you. Stopped the North Man, thought there to cause harm; must always protect you, from him too, if need. But the North Man not himself – no angry; only worry, beside himself. Asked if you belong to him or Thalia – not sure why," She shrugged her misunderstanding, "I answer him and give him speech – be strong; woman need strong vampire, not weakling. Not himself, but great vampire, very great. Need details to scare whiny baby vamp. Thalia point at Compton," She sneered as she spit out Bill's name, "Give the North Man name so secret stay safe. Protect him too, from others and himself. Vulnerable if state known; enemies strike at weaknesses."

"Like me?" I gulped, afraid Thalia meant to stand between us, keep us apart, like she had before the Great Revelation.

"No," She furiously shook her head and sharply poked me in the chest in the area over my heart with her finger – she really enjoyed pointing, "You his strength now. Love give purpose, reason to fight."

I threw my arms about her, and she stilled under me, allowing me a moment to cry into her shoulder before shoving me back less roughly than I would have expected. She patted me on the shoulder, a small smile breaching the corners of her lips. Surprise coursed through me – and I couldn't help but wonder if it hadn't wholly been my own.

It hadn't been.

"I have a child?"

Eric called out, removing his fingers from his ears, wonderment and excitement teeming in his eyes at his apparent realization that he had vampirically reproduced. Thalia and I exchanged a furrowed brow, followed by a sullen nod. We both knew why he would ask.

"Yes," I yelled back hesitantly, afraid to spit out the next question bubbling in the back of my throat, "Why do you ask?" Knowing the answer before he gave it.

He vamped over to us and back across the rooftop repeatedly, unable to keep still – I assumed he was too anxious and jacked up from the thrill of killing Bill and the anticipation of meeting his own progeny for the first time in his fugue state. It was… sort of adorable to see him fidgeting, unable to stifle his excitement – even if it was equal and opposite to my own reaction to the course events had taken. But he wasn't exactly aware of our unique situation; he was unburdened, carefree.

I was not.

Everything was happening all at once, and I was doing my best to unclutter the clusterfuck that was my attack followed by Bill's death and then coupled with the discovery of Eric's amnesia… his response interrupted my unspoolings.

"I can feel her; she's close! Oh Sookie, this is exciting! I cannot wait to meet her!"

The thought of adding Pam to the mix filled me with dread, causing the lights to crackle and spit in my palms. While Eric could not remember that our bond had been thrust upon him without him knowledge – causing him to previously boil with a fury that had terrified me – Pam was another story. I wasn't scared of Pam – I knew I could light her up if she chose to try to attack me – but with my luck, because my luck seemed to be shit these days, she knew all about the supposed intruder in his blood – me – and the jig would be up. She'd tell Eric I was a fraud of sorts, and I'd lose him again; I'd only just gotten him back. Why had I been dealt such a horrible hand in my second life? I just didn't know…

"She's here! She's here!"

His eyes were bright, like a child's spying his presents on Christmas morning, eager to meet the progeny he couldn't even remember. He was practically vibrating with the thought of getting to meet Pam; I was shaking for different reasons, moving behind Thalia who adopted a warrior-like stance, crouching slightly on her knees like a cat about to pounce – producing a slingblade-looking knife from God knows where. I slipped lower, effectively obscuring myself from a frontal viewing.

"Master, who the fuck is the _human_ Thalia's hiding behind her," Pam spit out addressing Eric – and only Eric – her British accent pervasive despite her obvious attempt to tamp it down. She sniffed the air, disgust awash in her features, "And why the fuck does she smell like _you_?"

"She is mine! Why wouldn't she smell of me?"

Eric responded gleefully, tugging me out from behind Thalia, placing his arm about my shoulder and hugging me into his chest. He drew lazy circles with his fingers on my forearm, peppering the top of my head with kisses. Pam's eyes widened at the sight of me, and I swore there was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. I wrote it off as déjà vu, filing away the nagging voice telling me that I had not imagined what I had seen.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?"

Pam spit out, addressing Thalia.

"High from kill; he calm down soon. Compton dead – fair kill. Compton harm what belong to the North Man," She swept her hand in my direction. Pam raised a questioning eyebrow; she obviously wasn't buying the whole 'Sookie belongs to Eric' shtick, "Also he lost memory; not know many things."

I rolled my eyes; apparently Thalia's memory was selective also.

"Anything, Pam. Thalia means to say he doesn't remember _any_ thing,"

I clapped my hand over my mouth as I realized – much to my own horror and chagrin – that I had used Pam's name, even though no one else had yet. Crap. She and I had never met; how the hell was I going to play that off?

Pam glared at me with mouth agape for several seconds, narrowing her eyes at me as if trying to wriggle into my head – and then I suddenly understood that was exactly what she was trying to do. Pam was trying to glamour me!

"Tell me how you know my name."

Shit! I willed my power to still, but my emotions swirled within me outside of my own control. What was I going to do? Pretend to be glamoured and say... what? Or admit I couldn't be glamoured and say... what? My mistake was going to bite me in the ass – possibly literally.

I snapped my shields up, trying to keep Eric from sensing the fear drowning my mind, but it spilled over and he peered down at me with a quizzical look before pushing Pam across the roof with an open-palmed thrust at her chest, effectively shutting her down. He kissed the top of my head again, curling me into his chest.

"No one glamours my bonded, not even my child."

I weighed the pros and cons of telling him I couldn't be glamoured.

Thinking back to his admittance in my past life that an unglamourable human was to be culled, I decided the cons won. I knew I would tell him eventually, but until then it was my secret to keep.

Pam walked back towards us scowling and muttering curses under her breath as she smoothed down her ruffled skirt and swatted at the Bill dust that had collected on her silk blouse. She eyed me warily as if trying to dissect me from the outside in – I had earned zero trust points with her – but strangely she accepted my presence, going so far to apologize, to Eric, but I was going to count it.

"Master, I should not have tried to glamour your human…"

"BONDED!" He screamed, correcting her.

Pam closed her eyes, and exhaled sharply, "Bonded…" She spit out as if the word had burned her tongue, "I apologize for my infraction. I do not know her, but you do not owe me all your truths, and I expect she is one of your many secrets… Is it true? Do you not remember anything?" Her voice became small, and her concern actually spilled over from her maker-child bond with Eric into the one he and I shared.

Things were maybe more perilous than I'd been willing to admit.

* * *

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* * *

Once Eric calmed down, he was still unfazed by his condition; in fact, he was reveling in it – much to Pam's chagrin. He _had_ become even more interested in touching me, drifting his fingers across each bit of exposed flesh in brushstroke-like movements, ramping up my lust. I tried to tamp it down but it was a fruitless effort. My head and heart warred over the moral implications of being with Eric when he wasn't quite himself – my head said it was wrong, while my heart said it fate's way of bringing us back together – as Pam drove us to one of Eric's safehouses.

Eric has insisted, with brute force more than words, that I was to accompany him, explaining it simply, "My enemies will target my bonded to draw me out if they are not able to strike at me directly." He may not have remembered who he was, but his penchant for strategic planning and maneuverings had certainly remained intact.

"Eric's warded his home with protections that keep out anyone who hasn't been invited. You both will be safest there until we find out who stole his memories. Eric's dayman usually stays there, but I called him earlier and told him to get the fuck out for now."

I had no idea how long it would take Pam to find out who had stolen Eric's memory. Maybe I should call Amelia and Gran so they don't worry – I thought to myself, realizing quickly that I no longer had my cell phone on me. As far as I knew, it was somewhere on the roof of the parking garage back at Desmond's law office.

"Crap!" I exclaimed, both vampires turning their heads to cast me a questioning gaze. "Pam – oh my gosh – please watch the road! One of us is a little more breakable than the other two in the event of a crash."

She rolled her eyes, but turned back around to gaze out the windshield.

I continued after I felt assured we weren't going to wreck, "I lost my phone – and my necklace."

"No, my bonded, you did not."

Eric produced both from his pocket, holding the silver in his palm like it was plastic – it wasn't burning him at all. Odd. I knew from the humming I had felt that magics were housed in the necklace Desmond had gifted me, but I'd never really questioned what their purpose was – now, my curiosities were piqued, overwhelming me. At the very least, it was good to know I could put it back on without having to worry it would injure Eric.

Taking both items from his hands, I threaded the necklace back about my neck, and tucked the phone into my front pocket, noting that my clothes were much worse for the wear.

"Pam," I asked, offering her an olive branch, "Can you take me shopping or at least pick up some dresses and underthings for me?" She'd love getting to pick and choose my unmentionables.

Eric waggled his eyebrows at me before trying to bait me.

"If she does, will you still walk about naked the whole time you are with me? I can order her not to help you cover up."

I swatted his arm, giggling at his flirtations. My heart was winning – he was still Eric – my resolve melted with each touch and insinuation, each reminder that he was unchanged from the Eric I had fallen in love with before. Eric was content to trust his blood; inherently, I wondered why I couldn't allow myself the same courtesy. So I did, letting all my worries and second-guessing fall away from my thoughts.

We deserved a happy reunion.

My eyes widened as we turned onto a familiar street, and I could've kicked myself. We were headed straight for the house I'd driven past on multiple occasions – Bobby Burnham's house, which I now understood had always belonged to Eric.

Kind of like me.

As we pulled into the driveway, Pam agreed to purchase some clothes for me – using Eric's cards; she wanted that to be clear – a poorly veiled hint of excitement in her tone betraying her steely countenance. Eric rushed to my car door, throwing it open, and swept me up into his arms. He carried me over the threshold – like a husband does with his bride, he said – and I had to admit, I was surprised I hadn't exactly needed a verbal invitation to get past the wards, but I expected that since Eric was ushering me in that superseded any need for an audible welcoming.

I wasn't sure if he truly meant what he had said how it sounded – that I was like his bride – but I was amazed that he had so much faith in me and in a relationship that wasn't quite as long as he seemed to think it was.

Quit discounting it, Stackhouse, you two are soulmates like Fintan said; you've been in love with him for more than twenty-three years.

I had to laugh a little bit; in this reality, I had been the stalker – although I had sucked at it, never finding my mark until he found me.

Because I knew the floorplan and he didn't, I led Eric towards his basement bedroom after he set me down to my feet. I was surprised to find that it was secured with a keypad that required a numerical cipher to gain entry. Neither of us knew the code, so we headed back upstairs towards the bedroom he had locked me in what felt like several decades ago – technically it was.

The room had been furnished differently, with a California King sized bed covered in black satin sheets and little else, but I was pleased to see it was light-tight and therefore vampire friendly. Of course it was, Pam wouldn't take us somewhere that didn't have a place for Eric to safely die for the day.

"Now that you have me in the bedroom; what is it you intend to do to me, my bonded?"

Would it be like riding a bike? Pun most definitely intended.

"Everything."

And I launched myself at him, discovering that he was already naked by the time I reached him. Thank God for vampire speed.

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 _A/N: As always many thanks to my awesome beta Mrskroy and also to every single reader and reviewer._


	32. The Ecstasy and the Agony

_A/N: It's an M rated story and there will be sex in this chapter. You have been warned. Thanks for reading!_

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Both of us were eager to succumb to our lusty urges, battling with our tongues as Eric swept me towards the bed, his naked flesh at attention and pressed up against my leg. My own body responded in kind, and I writhed in his arms seeking friction and closeness. But a rumbling also tore through my chest not quite unlike hiccups as I began to become overwhelmingly anxious about what we were about to do.

Sensing my emotional shift, and slight physical unease, Eric broke our kiss, and I panted to regain my breath, and also to calm my resurfacing nerves. I hugged myself into the crook of his neck – nipping at his skin and eliciting the sexiest of growls – seeking to dispel any concerns that I was reticent to take 'everything' as I had claimed not so many moments before.

"Mmmmm…" Eric purred into my hair, "Why have we never done this before?"

Of all questions, I couldn't believe he had chosen to ask that one. It yanked me out of my revelry like a cold water bath.

It wasn't that I hadn't expected him to scent my virginity – vampiric senses being heightened and what not – but his utterance reminded me in all the wrong ways that he believed in a relationship that technically hadn't existed in this reality. Some part of me was glad – glad! – that he'd been stripped of his last thousand years' worth of memories because it had made him accept me as his bonded. That part of me felt awful, but it was overshadowed almost entirely by the woman inside me who was rejoicing at having my heart back – my Eric. I wanted to tell myself that I was finally being blessed with some luck, and that as kindred souls we deserved our reunion – physical and otherwise – however it had been handed to us. But was I succumbing to Fate's will – the push Thalia mentioned – or merely being selfish and capitalizing on an easy situation?

I just didn't know the answer, and it plagued me.

Eric had scented that I was a virgin and instead of letting doubt and worry bloom within him – that I was not who I claimed to be – he concluded that we'd never been physical with one another, despite our bond. He was placing an unreal amount of faith and trust in me – and our supposed relationship he had no memory of – and what was _I_ doing? Letting him believe it because it suited my own selfish purposes – my almost crippling desire to have my Eric back. It wasn't as if Dr. Ludwig hadn't offered – the first few times my emotions breached the shields I had erected to block Eric from discovering our bond – to put me in touch with someone who could dissolve the bond entirely, which would put us both at ease. But I had, with a more passionate than logical argument, explained selfishly that our tie was mine to keep, and that his unwillingness to seek out such a solution was proof he may have found more comfort in it than he was willing to admit.

Even as the words slipped past my lips, I felt like I was a drug addict, justifying my appetites by explaining that because the drugs were there I was obviously meant to consume them, and that only if they disappeared on their own would I accept it as a sign that I'd gone too far. It felt pathetic – and I chastised myself – but Eric's presence in my blood was a canary in a coalmine, and it kept me mostly grounded. I suffered in my silence, struggling to resist the urge to feel for him, stroke the small tie between us to remind myself that it was real – that my previous reality wasn't a figment of my imagination.

Because I dreamt so often of my first life that it had begun to feel like it _had_ merely been a dream.

Two births, two adolescences, two adulthoods and telepathy to boot – it was enough to make any person question their sanity, and I had been no exception. Fintan had offered support as much as he could, but despite his hundreds of years, he was not too proud to admit it was not much the same. But I loved him for trying; he was a good grandfather. Desmond had tried to work with me; we held what we had called 'sessions,' during which we rooted through my memories, untangling them from the mess they were slowly melting into. But I stopped our meetings unceremoniously after the bond was reignited. Desmond was only trying to help – show me a way to find my peace of mind – but I was too ashamed and covetous of my secret to risk its exposure.

Throughout the year after the bond was reignited, Amelia still asked from time to time about Eric, but I allowed her to believe that I was getting over him. I'd even begun to tell her that Alcide and I were dating, which couldn't have been farther from the truth but she never questioned it – believing he and I met somewhere between Louisiana and Mississippi to lessen the impact of driving both ways. In fact, I refused to see him entirely, overly paranoid that his enhanced werewolf senses would be able to smell the vampire blood swirling within me, despite the fact that it was impossible because I diligently took my pills – one every twelve hours with a full glass of water.

Instead I had used my 'date' times to lay in the grass – in the open clearing Eric and I had stalked through the night he'd saved me from Russell Edgington and his wolves – and stare at the stars, meditating and praying for the strength to still my soul and mind. Every so often, Thalia would appear from the shadows and startle me – much to her delight. Without a word between us, she'd lay on the dirt beside me, tracing the stars with her fingertips until the wee hours of the morning. Then I'd pop back into my apartment in Shreveport, letting Amelia make her own loud-thought assumptions the next day – dirty in nature mostly – about what she believed Alcide and I had been up to that kept me out until long after she'd fallen asleep. I couldn't bring myself to care, or correct her – it gave me more secrets, and I was eating them up like candy.

In essence, I had turned inside myself during the past year, and now I was about to dig myself a deeper hole by lying not only to my family and friends, but to the man – vampire – that I loved. Because no matter how much I wanted to tamp the nagging voice in my head, it was right – keeping Eric in the dark, refusing to offer him the truth of our connection, our bond, was worse than lying; it would be the betrayal of my heart, of our love story.

My musings passed through my mind in the blink of an eye, but in seconds the mood in the room had shifted from light and playful to heavy and suffocating. Eric cocked his head and furrowed his brow, confused as to why his question had sent my thoughts reeling into space – I was sure of it. He didn't know that I was the only one who was able to see the elephant in the room, the haunting vision of a life we had both lived, but only I remembered.

What was I going to do?

Sure, I could get away with not telling Eric about my shame and where our bond had really come from and enjoy a temporary respite from my heartache in his arms. I could pray and hope beyond hope that once his memories returned that he would accept the connection spun and deepened between us, never understanding its origin. But would the guilt do anything other than eat me up inside? And what if he rejected our supposed relationship thrust upon him during his fugue, would I do anything but regret not being honest with him by giving him the chance to make a choice, instead of taking it from him? Could I ever look back fondly on memories based on something fake?

No, no, and no.

Of course, I was also aware – depending on how he took the news – that telling him was likely to be the most regrettable thing I had ever done. But I couldn't help but wonder if this was exactly how he felt when he let me sleep down in his day chamber while he was dead for the day after Pam had attacked me, after I had discovered they were vampires? Had he also felt this vulnerable – terrified it would be a mistake – and unwilling to stray from his chosen course because he believed it was the only way things would ever be right between us? Hadn't he still chosen to let me hold his life in my hands in spite of his fears and misgivings?

Yes, yes, and yes.

I owed Eric exactly what he had given me – the truth and the chance to accept him as he was or walk away. Because letting anything happen between us without exposing my secret first would be akin to living outside reality in a fantasy world – and perhaps only for a short time – where I wore rose-colored glasses and pretended to be less than myself, always hoping that Eric wouldn't figure out exactly who and what I was – a world-changer who had once wielded a cluviel dor like a reckless child.

At the end of the day my dilemma boiled down to two choices: Did I tell him – risk letting him think I was crazy and possibly leaving me in response – or did I keep it to myself – tuck this moment into my heart and, even if he stayed after his memories returned, live with the unbearable guilt that everything that would have transpired between us had a lie at its base?

I had to tell him.

"Eric…" I whispered practically too quiet for him to hear, tears welling up in my eyes, second-guessing myself instantly – what the hell was I doing? "Before we… I need to tell you something…"

"Shhh…" He held me to him and stroked my back reassuringly, peppering my shoulder with light kisses, "It will be new for me too; we will explore together. I have never… made love before. It will be a… first for both of us."

His words echoed his utterance before the first time we made love in my previous reality, and they tugged at my heartstrings. Despite his sweet words, I burst into tears, laugh-sobbing out my reply – it sounded a little bit cheekier than I intended for it to.

"You don't know that. You don't remember anything…"

Why was I reminding him and sort of putting myself down? I didn't know the answer to either, but Eric responded by doubling down on his proclamation with an air of confidence that was neither condescending nor exaggerated. It left no room for a rebuttal, but I'm not sure if I would have tried to give one anyway.

Eric set me down, clasped my hands into his, and gazed into my eyes – brimming with unshed tears – with own his stormy, oceanic blues, veritably peering into my soul – exposing the honesty wrapped around each and every word that spilled from his lips. I didn't need the bond to see it.

"I have never had the pleasure of joining with you, therefore I have never made love. I do not require the use of my memories to read my heart. Sookie, I... love you."

Oh my gosh, he was making it so much harder to tell him – and also that much more impossible not to.

The hopeful side of me poked me repeatedly, telling me that maybe – just maybe – some part of him did remember me, and that I owed that part of him a reason behind the madness that was loving someone he'd never met. I could only hope once he regained his memories that he'd carry this one with him also. Steeled in my resolve, I gave myself one more push.

Take the plunge, Stackhouse; it's now or never.

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Eric's features slowly stiffened as I shared everything with him that had occurred in my other reality, sparing no details from the time before I restarted the world with my cluviel dor – meeting him on the road, my rescue from Russell Edgington, Gran's death, him kidnapping me, Pam's attack, his admittance that he'd stalked me for two years, our first time making love… I went on and on until I finally reached our final battle against his maker, Appius. I paused, searching his face for some semblance of emotion, and tapped into our bond only to discover it felt empty, that he must've had closed it.

You knew this might happen, Stackhouse; it's almost over, don't stop now.

"He killed Pam for protecting me, and then he came after me…" Tears striped my face, and I stared at my hands, fumbling at the frayed edges of my ruined clothes, "I was too weak to use my powers against him, but you protected me, wished he couldn't get at me – I think – which ignited the cluviel dor we'd made when we bonded," I swore I saw him flinch at the word, "So it was like I was in a bubble... And he beat his fists against it, furious," I trembled, remembering how Appius had lashed out once he realized he'd been thwarted by magics. I sighed heavily, regaining my haggard breath before continuing, "Until he… realized it wasn't going to work… and then he ordered you to end me… but you couldn't either… So…"

I didn't want to finish.

Eric gestured, making circles with his hand – but did not speak – indicating that I should finish unspooling the history we had between us, explaining the truth behind our connection.

More than anything, I wished in that moment I could read his mind; it was terrible not knowing what he was thinking. I shifted in my seat on the edge of the bed, scratching at the skin on the back of my hand in a nervous fit, trying to summon the willpower and strength to soldier on.

Somehow I found it.

"It was obvious where he planned to put his rage… We told each other that we loved each other – one last time – before he tore a stake from somewhere in his clothes," My voice became small and almost apologetic, as I sobbed out the penultimate piece of our love story, "And then he killed you. He screamed… and screamed… and told me it was my fault – and it was," I didn't bother to bite back the guilt-laced profession, "And then I made a wish, not realizing it would be granted – my cluviel dor in bits and pieces stuck to my bloodied flesh…" I took one last deep breath as he stared at me with an unreadable expression in his eyes, "I wished that 'the faeries never had cause to seek me out.' And then you sprung back to life!" Eagerness entering my timbre, "And chopped Appius's head off, and Pam came back too! But then I… disappeared, and everything went black. After some weird times with the faeries and a short stint in a movie theatre that was playing my new life, I entered a new world – and here, we are…"

"And the bond?" He asked, his tenor cold and unfeeling.

"A friend tried to give me back what I had lost – you. Thalia, the vampire from the roof who helped you, she gave me her blood to mute our bond so you wouldn't come kill me…"

Suddenly it hit me that my death might end up being the final act to my story, and I scooted away from him a bit, drawing his attention and a scowl. My eyes flitted about Eric's placid countenance, unnerved by his lack of emotion and scared that I knew exactly what it meant – that he hadn't only taken it badly, but that it was unlikely I would survive the night. He stared past me, lost in his thoughts as rage began to bubble up and spill over our bond, despite the bond's previous quietude. Tears continued to fall as I steeled myself for his response.

After several minutes, it came.

"That's awful!" He roared, and I felt properly chastised, ashamed, and resolved to my impending demise – but not without a fight – slinking away from him to rise from the bed, hiding my hands that lit brighter with each step I took. But my magics stilled from shock at his next words, "It's an awful situation you've had to soldier through, and you've handled it brilliantly at every turn. You really are an amazing woman; I can only hope I am worthy of you."

"You… believe me?" I sputtered out, disbelief rife in my tone.

"Of course, we are bonded, Lover. I've been closely reading your emotions this whole time, focusing intently to uncover any buried deceit or trickery, but as I expected there was none," He rose and vamped in front of me, placing his hands on my hips, lightly teasing his fingers up and down my sides, "If anything, I've only learned that your actions mirror your emotions with the same fire that dances in your eyes. You love me as fiercely as I love you. Perhaps, this… amnesia is fortuitous, meant to push us together again – fix what fate and the faeries broke."

"But you've lost everything…"

I retorted sadly, unable to grab the words before they escaped through my mouth, regretting that I had made it sound like I didn't trust him. I did, with my life, with my heart, with my soul.

"What are you talking about? Everything I've lost can be replaced. If anything I have gained… because now I have you."

Eric smiled sweetly, leaning down to lightly press his lips against mine. All my fears and guilt melted; everything was out in the open, and our love had bounced back stronger than ever.

"Oh, Eric…"

I swooned out, as he drew back from me, grinning once again. I threw my arms around his neck and crashed my lips against his. My man was a sweet-talker; my man – _mine_.

Lifting me from the ground, he tangled my legs about his naked waist and pulled me onto the bed behind us – the black satin sheets highlighting the subtle glow of his alabaster skin – settling me down on top of him as he tugged lightly at my clothes. It was as encouraging as it was sexy – him seeking my permission to remove the thin layers of cloth between us and bliss.

I raised my arms so that he could slip my tattered and bloody blouse over my head, exposing my white cotton bra – built very much more for comfort than for show. Of course, I hadn't exactly dressed for the occasion, but Eric still growled appreciatively as he raked his eyes over the teasing amount of cleavage spilling over the top, trailing his fingers lighting across my décolletage and downwards, allowing them to ghost over the soft fabric. He may have lost his memory, but he certainly hasn't lost his touch – pun intended – and his ministrations sent electrical charges through the expanse of my body to rest in my feminine core. Ugh, I was still wearing many too many clothes.

Eric agreed.

He hastily cinched up my skirt using the hem as I mimicked his eagerness, fumbling with the zipper, struggling to tear it down its seam. Ultimately, I relented from my task, gripping the first hole I could find and ripping the garment in half. I tossed it towards the corner of the room, not caring to watch where it landed – neither did Eric. Thank goodness, my panty selection had been much more apropos for the situation at hand – a black lace thong – the sight of which elicited a deep rumble that tore through Eric's chest and erupted from his throat.

His fangs popped down with a click, and his eyes became hooded, mirroring my own I assumed.

Straddling him, I began to slowly grind my hips into his hardening length, rubbing the moisture pooling between my legs against him as it slipped past the thin layer of lace separating our sexes. Eric grunted in approval, crashing his lips into my own. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I moaned appreciatively as it swept against the sides of my own, teasing it and reminding me of his many oral talents. One hand threaded into my hair, while the other reached to my back and deftly unclasped my bra. With a skill I hadn't known I possessed, I slipped the straps down my shoulders and arms, flinging it away from the bed, without interrupting the liplock binding our bodies together.

If I thought Eric had appreciated the sight of my underthings, he fucking adored seeing my breasts, breaking our kiss to stare almost dumbfounded for several seconds before moving his hand from my back, lightly scraping his nails against the skin – I whimpered my approval – to cup the weight of my left breast in his calloused, but gentle hand, thumbing my nipple as it peaked in response to his attentions.

We both growled at the electricity that jolted through the bond as a result of the sensual touch.

I continued to writhe on top of his body as he devoted both hands to the worship of my breasts, plucking and pinching; the heat of my core increased with each movement. As I threw my head back, Eric dipped his head to my chest, capturing one of my erect buds between his cool lips, sucking as he softly dragged a fang against the tip as he alternatively kneaded and outlined the curve of my other breast. My hips bucked in response, and I grabbed at my thong, reducing it to cinders with a precision that kept both of us from getting burned.

Huh, I didn't know I could do that.

I felt my orgasm blooming in my core and Eric's chest rumbled as my feelings swelled within him, compounding and heightening our mutual satisfaction. As my pleasure intensified quickly, Eric placed one of his hands between my legs, resting his finger on my most sensitive spot before rubbing in circles at a speed only a vampire could achieve. It caused me to quiver, and the building pressure doubled, climbing even faster, threatening to send me over the edge.

"My bonded always comes first," Eric whispered against my breast.

Yes, sir… He didn't have to tell me twice.

The intensity rang through me immediately with an incomparable beauty.

The heated flood of my release broke between my thighs as my orgasm overtook me, and I roared out Eric's name as I lost all control of the pitch and volume of my voice. The room's walls may have shook from the quake that was my climax – I couldn't say for sure; I wasn't exactly paying attention, high off the bliss coursing through my veins, panting my overwhelming appreciation against his shoulder.

"Gods, you look even more beautiful when you come…" Eric purred into my ear, lust dripping in his tenor, as he raked his tongue along the lobe, slipping it in and out quickly, "Let's never leave this room, Lover, I want to spend my life between your legs…"

"Promise?" A coquettish playfulness in my tone, followed by a wink, "Because I'd very much enjoy that…"

He sucked in a sharp breath as I reached down to grasp his member, and his eyes lit with a fiery passion, burning with desire. I gripped him tightly, stroking up and down, swirling my palm around the tip as I simultaneously inched my body down to settle on my elbows between his legs.

"Or perhaps," I grinned at him impishly, sultry mischievousness awash in my expression, "I should spend mine between yours."

Inhibitions were for the birds, I thought.

He fell backwards, temporarily rendered boneless by the sensations my humming mouth sent through his body. I bobbed up and down as I pleasured him, using both hands to touch what would not fit – he was huge; I had not forgotten it by any means, but my memory had barely done him justice!

"Uhh… ohhhh…..Sooooookie…"

"Look at me, Lover." I commanded him – stopping momentarily to capture his attention – and his pupils dilated, almost turning black. They didn't look feral – he was in control – but instead lustful with an undeniable eagerness.

Continuing to hold his gaze, I resumed my ministrations. His moans became guttural, and he quickly lost all ability to form words, trembling beneath my hands and mouth. I felt him swell and I redoubled my efforts, knowing that his peak was nearing. His hands, almost instinctively, flew to the sides of my head as he matched my movements with his own, thrusting his hips slightly but not forcefully – I had all the control, and he was putty in my hands. He screamed my name as he erupted, spasming beneath me as I ghosted my lips against him lightly, finishing him off and swallowing.

"Mmmmm…"

He murmured, a deep purr settling within his chest – elation ringing across our bond.

I'd never done it before, but I had to admit that despite its many difficulties being a telepath did come with a couple of perks. Between people's memories – gross – and internet research, I'd been pretty confident that I knew what I was doing, and hoped that Eric would be very satisfied as a result.

From the dreamy look on his face, I could safely assume I'd achieved my goal.

He rebounded quickly – I was a fucking lucky woman – throwing his arms about me, and vamping me under him with his length positioned at my core. Like my previous reality, he sought my permission, asking me with his words and his eyes if I wanted to join with him.

"I love you, Sookie, and you are so fucking sexy and seductive, but you have already given me more pleasure than I could have asked for. I will understand if you want to wait; there is no need to rush our sexual re-exploration…"

I cut him off, placing my finger to his lips, begging his silence, "Eric, I've been waiting literally a lifetime for this... Jag är din… Jag är din," I purred wantonly in his native tongue as I reached between us to help guide him inside me, "Älska med mig. Jag vill vara en med dig…"

Of course, I had learned Swedish; what else was a girl to do while waiting for her soulmate to find her?

He pushed into me, and I winced at the slight pain that radiated through me. Eric stilled, but I urged him on reassuringly, "I'm okay… I'm okay, baby… It's just like a slight pinch; it'll be over soon."

The pain subsided quickly and a surge of euphoria flooded through me as our hips moved in rhythm, my legs wrapped around his waist. I pulled my body to his, nipping and sucking at the flesh on his chest, as Eric dragged his fangs against my collarbone, peppering my neck with kisses – causing an electric bolt of lust to zip through me. I could feel in our bond his hesitation to bite, but I wanted him to. When trying to form words to urge him on, I discovered I was too consumed by bliss. Instead I offered my encouragement by sinking my blunt teeth into the flesh just below his shoulder, sucking in his sweet and rich essence before his wound sealed. Understanding the intent behind my actions, he slipped his fangs into the crook of my neck and drank with a humming moan; in turn, I dug my nails into his sculpted ass, pulling him deeper inside me as stars bespeckled my vision.

Ecstasy tore through me and I howled my rapture. As my body reeled from the effects, I felt him orgasm beneath me, roaring into my shoulder and collapsing on top of me. He licked my bite, closing it, and then settled, panting into my hair despite the fact he had no cause to breathe. I cheered my victory in my head as I sought to regain and even out my own breath, and I felt a similar sensation flit across our bond – he was also doing his own version of a mental fist pump.

Adorbs.

"I love you, Sookie." | "I love you, Eric."

We breathed out simultaneously, kissing deeply and tangling our limbs about one another. He hugged me to his chest, sweat – mine, not his – glistening off both our bodies. I drew lazy circles on the lines of his chiseled abs, thinking about how much I wanted to do all that again – every night, and for forever. I should find out if faeries can turn vampire, I thought as I pressed a kiss to Eric's chest in the area over his heart. He hardened once again against my thigh and I grinned like a Cheshire cat, pulling back to find he wore a smile not unlike my own.

"More, more, more…" I chanted.

"Of course, my Lover," He replied with a devious glint in his eyes and his lips curled into a devilish smirk, "But first, I'd like to taste _you_ …"

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Oh my stars, the things that man could do with his tongue. My vampire had many sexual talents, and we explored them all, and I surprised him by showcasing some of my own that I had learned – from him – during my previous reality.

Bunnies had nothing on us.

At the end of the night, the sun didn't end up taking us – exhaustion did.

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I woke up several hours later, around 3 o'clock, wrapped up in Eric's arms, the sheets tangled between us. I smiled to myself, and sighed contentedly – I'd finally found some peace. I shifted, still under the weight of Eric's arm thrown about my waist, turning to face the beautiful vampire who had graced my second life with a love that felt almost deeper and stronger than the one we shared before. I reached up and traced his chiseled jawline with the tip of my finger, committing every curve and indent to memory. I closed my eyes, and leaned forward to place a soft kiss onto his pale pink lips.

"I love you."

I whispered quietly – despite the fact he would not hear me because he was dead for the day – slipping out from under his embrace to head towards the ensuite bathroom to take care of my 'human' needs.

The ache between my legs could not be denied or ignored, and thinking about how it came to be warmed my heart and stirred my loins. In spite of the small modicum of pain that accompanied my excitement, I felt eager to rejoin my lover in bed for what I hoped would be another night filled with passionate lovemaking, the physical expression of our heart and souls' joy at finding each other once again.

Plus, Eric naked? Super yummy. That man had the body of a god, and I wanted to worship him forever.

But first, I needed to call my Gran and Fintan, Desmond, and Amelia – in that order – and let them know I was okay, but that I would be missing for an indefinite amount of time, and share my good fortune; they'd all be happy for me, I just knew it.

I chuckled to myself, spying the white fluffy robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. 'So much the same,' I thought to myself, hoisting it off the hook to throw it about my body. It smelled like Eric, which was an undeniable bonus on top of the fact it was incredibly soft and comfy – terrycloth. Exiting the bathroom, I took one last look at Eric – a serene smile dancing across his countenance – before grabbing my phone from the nightstand, glancing at the pile of my disheveled bloodied clothes in the corner, and shutting the door gently behind me.

I tore down the staircase, pausing briefly as I relived the memory of bouncing down said stairs after Pam flew at me, knocking me into a tumble.

While Eric's home housed many happy memories, there would always be a few bad ones lingering in the shadows, ready to jump out and make their presence unavoidable. But I had to remind myself of two truths that were just as impossible to ignore: Pam's attack had been the catalyst that propelled Eric and I forward – away from captive and captor to lover and lover – forcing us to repair the rift dug between us and, more importantly, I'd forgiven Pam her trespasses against me long ago – and I wasn't about to retract her absolution now.

But maybe she did still owe me.

I had told her I wouldn't let her off easy… I wasn't going to torture her per se – that made anything else I did okay, right? It probably still mattered how I chose to levy that debt, and since I had yet to decide, I didn't muse on the idea any further.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

I called Fintan and Gran, noting that Gran sounded a lot more tired than I would've expected her to in the afternoon, but when I questioned Fintan he waved it off, telling me to focus on rekindling and rewriting my love story in my new reality. Gran had been offering apologies when Fintan stepped in and took the phone from her; I could actually hear him cradling her to his chest – those two really were soulmates, and I told him I thought so.

"You and the vampire too, my dear; he also shares your soul the way your Gran and I do."

Fintan responded, urging me not to worry about the two of them and to focus on enjoying having love in my life once again. He admitted that he had told Gran everything – and as expected she had attempted to shoulder the blame because she had, in the other reality, helped make the cluviel dor in the first place – but he insisted that they were both pleased I could finally grab at some happiness after many lonely years.

I told him that I loved him, and to relay my love to Gran also before I hung up the phone.

Desmond was my second call, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he heard my voice on the line after his secretary connected us.

"Oh, thank the Gods, you are okay. There was a battle on the roof, I could smell it, and your blood was intermingled with the blood of several vampires."

I was a little stunned; it's not like he had called. He offered an explanation before I could beg one.

"I didn't call because your fierce vampire friend left me a not-so-friendly message," Thalia – I just knew it, "that said, and I quote, 'leave Sookie and Viking the fuck alone until she call.' I don't usually listen to vampires, and it was just a voicemail, but even her voice chilled me to the bone. You have the oddest friends, my sweet goddaughter."

What could I say? I'd befriended a whole menagerie of friends over the years – a shifter, a werewolf, a witch, and then a vampire. If someone didn't know me better, they might assume I was overly fascinated with the supernatural world – but in truth, I was not. It was overly fascinated with me, an under-exaggeration at best.

Okay, I was a little to blame too; I enjoyed being a half-faery hybrid, living on the fringe.

"Dezzie, I'm with Eric," I paused for a gasp, that didn't come, so I resumed with the inquiry that had been nagging at me in the back of my mind, "Why didn't the necklace burn him? What magics are housed within it?"

"The necklace has been enchanted to allow someone you knew access to you and your blood, like your Viking."

I snorted my disbelief, and also my irritation, "Fat lot of good that did. Couldn't narrow that in? Bill Compton attacked me last night, and he almost killed me! I guess since I knew him in my past life the magics let him right on through!" Thank God, Eric showed up to kill him!

I was livid, and it wasn't completely unfair.

"I didn't even consider Bill Compton as a threat," Desmond said, more to himself than me, "He's – he'd" He corrected his tense, "Been missing from the Queen's court for over twenty years. They presumed that he'd run off with his vile maker, Lorena. Awful bitch of a woman; she really had done a number on him."

I had no sympathy for that asshole, and I knew Desmond wasn't begging it of me – he was reminiscing on how he had arrived at his decision to enchant the necklace the way he had. Desmond offered his apologies and also his congratulations that I had been reunited with my heart before offering me the option to take a leave of absence – I eagerly accepted – before saying our goodbyes.

"Return whenever you want; there is always a place for you here."

Last but not least, I dialed Amelia.

"Oh my god, Sookie! Where the fuck have you been!? I've been worried sick!"

I wanted to tell her that since I'd often been gone – hanging out in the woods, not that she knew that – that I highly doubted that, but I was not going to discount her concern.

"I'm okay, Meels," My broad smile evident in my tone, "I'm with Eric."

"THE Eric?!" She shrieked so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear. I could still hear her just fine, "HOLY SHIT, what're you doing calling me?! Shouldn't you be screwing your brains out?!"

I rolled my eyes; oh, Amelia.

"Meels, he's a vampire; they die for the day."

"BUT YOU DID! OMG!"

She screamed, and I wasn't quick to refute her claim – mostly because she had hit the bullseye and she deserved her prize.

"Yeah… all night! Oh, Meels," I blushed, not that she could see it, at the memory of the sheer ecstasy I'd experienced from Eric's ministrations, "There are no words!" And there were not!

"Tell me everything!" She demanded, and I could practically see her popping the popcorn and curling up on the couch, waiting for me to recount in graphic detail the exploits of my bedroom adventures.

"Not now; later," I remembered half of the reason I had phoned her; Eric had lost his memory, and it was fair to assume it was to a spell, which often meant witches were involved, "Meels, Eric had his memories stolen from him; he has no clue who he is…"

She cut me off, "And you're thinkin' it's gotta be a spell, right?"

There was no bitterness in her tone.

I agreed, and she proceeded to tell me about a powerful Werewitch who had a penchant for dark magics and grudges – memory spells, her area of expertise. Her name was Hallow, and when Amelia whispered it softly – as if Hallow would hear her if she repeated her name too loudly – I knew deep in my soul and without a doubt that she was the cause of Eric's fugue state.

What I didn't know was why, and I wasn't sure I cared to know.

The woman who had brought me my heart's desire had a name, and I honestly wasn't sure if I truly counted her as an enemy, which bloomed a sense of guilt in me that I knew wouldn't be easily sloughed away.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

As Amelia and I discussed Hallow and her witchy ways, I lost track of time.

Before I even knew it the sun had set and Eric's presence was flitting about my mind, sort of mentally asking where I was. I made my quick goodbyes to Amelia, and turned to ascend the stairs.

Before I'd taken even one step, I heard a crash – like eggs breaking – and did a roundabout to search for the source of the noise, discovering much to my chagrin that Bobby Burnham – Eric's 'dayman' according to Pam – was running towards me, screaming for me to "STOP." Apparently, he had decided that I was an intruder, and, for some reason he believed it was his job to throw me out.

I didn't run; why would I? Bobby wasn't scary, and I was Eric's. As far as I was concerned, it was all going to be sorted out quickly, but hopefully without Bobby's death.

Reaching me moments later, Bobby clamped his bulbous fingers around my wrist before he growled out at me, "You?! How the fuck did you get in here!?"

A whoosh of air brushed past me, landing next to Bobby – Pam.

"Leave the Master's bonded alone, Bobby."

Pam snapped at him, uncurling his fingers from my wrist. She gripped them so harshly he yelped, crying out at his pain.

'Bonded? Fucking doubt that! That little tramp's been scouting out this house for years. Probably just another gold-digging piece of backwater trash. Can't imagine the Master wants her for anything more than a feed and a fuck… Nice tits though.'

Bobby's hate-filled thoughts assaulted my mind, and I flinched visibly when he licked his lips while trying to picture me naked. Somehow Pam understood his intentions; I imagined she could feel my disgust seeping through her maker-child bond, and had correctly surmised that Bobby was the source of my revulsion.

"Worthless fucking piece of shit," She muttered loudly enough for her ire to echo throughout the foyer, "Bobby, fucking look at me and regret all your life choices," She said before capturing his eyes to glamour him – I supposed – as he donned an expression suggesting that he'd been properly chastised. He looked like he was having a seizure, as hard as he was shaking, as he turned his head towards Pam – she had never released his fingers, and for all intents and purposes it didn't appear she was going to.

'Shit! Shit shit shit!' He screamed in his mind before it settled with a gauzy haze.

"Bobby, you will kiss Sookie's ass like she's the fucking Queen of England," Pam's British accent in full force, "And when she asks you a question, you will cluck like a chicken before answering," She briefly winked at me as I fought to stifle my laughter, my hand clasped over my mouth, "Now, get the fucking food in the fucking fridge and get the fuck out you fucking fucktard."

She kicked him in the ass to punctuate her last command, releasing him from her glamour and her vice grip on his hand.

"Oh, Sookie," Pam sing-songed, "Is there anything you'd like to ask Bobby before he leaves?"

Bobby turned to face me, his thoughts and eyes conveying a reverence and awe that almost creeped me out, but it _was_ ten times better than the alternative.

"Sure…" What to ask? What to ask? OH! "Bobby, can you make sure to bring some eggs tomorrow?" They'd been broken and we'd need more; plus, the obvious reasons.

"Cluck cluck! Yes, Mistress, your will is my command." And he turned about-face and walked away, leaning down to lift the canvas bags brimming with fresh veggies and other staples as he passed them before padding along into the kitchen.

Pam roared her laughter, slapping her leg and tossing her head back, "Oh, sweet pea, you are too bad! And that was too good!"

Sweet pea; she hadn't called me that since the previous reality, and I came to a decision.

"Forgiven and forgotten, Pam," I said, knowing she'd have no clue what I was referring to – and that was fine for me.

Her countenance donned a confused look for mere seconds before she fluttered her eyelashes at me and rolled her eyes. "You know, you're okay," she caveated it, "for a breather – even if you can't be glamoured."

How the hell did she figure _that_ out?

Oh yeah, I hadn't exactly bothered to look glamoured – glassy-eyed with my Crazy Sookie smile – when she'd made her attempt on the roof, while I searched my brain for a verbal escape route. My jaw may as well have fell to the floor, but I pulled it up, literally and figuratively, adopting a more aggressive response than my usual one – like Jason had taught me so many years ago. The best defense was a good offense.

"So?"

I retorted, one hand on my hip with a fireball in the other; a challenge implied. Yep, I wasn't exactly a wordsmith, but what could I say? I was better with my hands.

"Feisty, too! Now I like you even more!" Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled.

She hooked her arm under mine, steering me towards the downstairs office, "Come on, sweet pea; I think I've got a lead on who stole Eric's memory from him. He was quite insistent you be part of any debriefings."

As we reached the room, I was surprised to find that Eric was already there, sitting behind an ornately-carved mahogany desk. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of furniture I had ever seen.

"The man?"

He questioned Pam, looking up and down my body with a concerned look after standing up and vamping to my side – I assumed he was checking me for injuries. Luckily for Bobby, I had none.

"Taken care of."

Eric took hold of my hand, and walked us back to the chair to sit once again. I climbed into his lap and he began to play with my hair, twisting loose strands between his fingers. His actions were playful, but his timbre was all business.

"Thank you, my child," He turned his head to look at me, "I am sorry I sent Pam instead of coming to your aid myself, but we cannot risk others discovering I am without my memories," My man was a strategic genius, and I loved it, "Enemies will pop out of the woodwork if they think they could strike me down," He spoke to Pam once again, "Begin the search for his replacement; I will interview candidates as soon as my memory returns."

Eric sounded authoritative, confident, and in control; it suited him. Listening to him, I understood exactly what made him a great sheriff – he knew when to work and when to play. Memories don't make the man; I thought to myself.

He and Pam then began to discuss Hallow – my one interruption to confirm that I also believed the Werewitch to be the culprit – and I did my best to pay attention. I cared about who was after Eric – I really did – but I wasn't nearly as eager as the two of them for him to get his memories back. The nagging voice, that was my own insecurity, told me that when it came to his memories, it was either me or them.

But I was holding out hope that I was wrong.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

The next couple of weeks went on similarly… Bobby filling the house with food, Pam coming nightly to report on her findings in the search to find Hallow, and Eric and I christening every surface of his house – some areas twice. We had settled into an addicting routine, and I refused to let myself worry about what might happen when the bubble encircling us – locking us away in our own little world where only our love for each other mattered – burst.

But it turned out that Fate sometimes throws you a curveball when you're on the lookout for a fast pitch.

Fintan called one day, begging me to come home, admitting to me that my Gran had not been well, but that neither of them had wanted to interrupt my happy reunion with Eric. I felt sick that I had been enjoying myself, while my Gran was suffering, nearing her end. I waited for Eric to rise, not wanting to leave without talking to him, and when he rose, he insisted that I go, promising to come visit me every night despite the risk of exposure he'd face leaving the house. I showed him on a map the location of the farmhouse and he drew a heart around the spot, saying "that's where my heart will be" – sometimes I almost couldn't believe how sweet he could be. We loved each other like crazy – we really were fated souls.

I kissed him, and then popped into the farmhouse, rushing to Gran's side to sit vigil beside her bed.

Eric, as promised, showed up every night at sunset to comfort me and sometimes sit with me and my Gran, who drifted in and out of consciousness. Other times, Fintan and Eric would spend hours talking in the kitchen, discussing who knows what. Once night, Fintan pulled me aside to tell me, "I like your man; he is your perfect match, like a Silent Knight." For some reason, that gave me déjà vu – weird – and I searched my own memories, finding nothing to explain it.

Not so many days later, my Gran passed peacefully in her sleep, and Fintan followed shortly after – not because he'd been tied to her lifespan by magic, but because, like he had told me in my other reality, he hadn't wanted to live one day in the world without her. Before he laid down next to her to let his heartbreak overtake him, Fintan kissed me on the forehead and reminded me of several things.

"You will see us again, my dear, in the Summerlands. But until then, remember, we are always with you – right here," And he lightly tapped the spot over my heart with his forefinger, "You are precious, and I love you; your Gran loves you. And you _will_ get your happy ending," I had told him my concerns about Eric's memory returning, " _Believe_ in the universe, Sookie; she has a plan, even if it's hard to see it up close."

I told Fintan I loved him too, and then minutes later, he was gone.

I heaved sob after sob, unable to stifle my sadness, sitting on the front porch swing and waiting for the sun to descend. I needed to be with my heart now more than ever. Eric's secret nightly visit could not come soon enough.

When he arrived, he knew – he just did – and he swept me into his arms, carrying me to bed and curling his frame around mine. He whispered to me how he loved me over and over until I fell asleep. When I woke the next morning, he had left me a note by the side of the bed.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

 _My dearest Sookie,_

 _I am aggrieved you have suffered such a loss, and I offer my condolences. I understand that your human burial practices can become cumbersome and burdening; I do not want this for you. I hope you will forgive my high-handedness, but I have ordered Pam to handle all the arrangements. She will contact you with any questions that may arise; please let her help, she wants to as much as I do._

 _Love for you always,_

 _Your Eric_

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

Three days later, my Gran and Fintan were laid to their final rest in the cemetery off of Hummingbird Lane, near the farmhouse. The ceremony was beautiful and reverent, celebrating their lives while also mourning their deaths. Jason sat next to me, squeezing my hand throughout the whole thing. He stayed for hours after, receiving visitors at the farmhouse who wanted to reminisce on our Gran's life. We cried in each other's arms.

Some of the faery people showed up too – for the funeral and the wake – and I didn't have the heart to turn them away. Whether I liked it or not, they were also part of our family, and we needed each other to shepherd our way through the loss we had jointly experienced. Niall didn't come, and while that surprised me, since Fintan was his son, I was okay with it – I really didn't want to see him again.

And then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, everyone was gone, and I was alone in the dark little house, waiting for night to fall, for my Eric to come and take me home to the house we shared. My grief consumed my heart and I blocked the bond to shield Eric from the force of my negative emotions. Because I could not feel him, I watched the sky expectantly. Long after the sun dipped below the horizon, I was confused.

Where are you, Mister Sheriff Vampire? Where are you?

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

But instead of Eric showing up, Fate delivered me a suckerpunch straight to the heart, knocking my faith in the universe right out of me.

As I wallowed in my misery sitting alone on the farmhouse's porch swing, worrying about Eric and succumbing to my grief over the loss of Gran and Fintan, Pam approached, looking more forlorn than I'd seen any vampire look ever.

"It is done; he is himself again," She said as she ascended the few porch stairs.

My worst fears realized.

"Oh."

It was the only response I could muster, clutching tightly to the off-white blanket strewn about me – it used to be my Gran's – pulling it closer for comfort. I had wondered why Eric hadn't come to me as soon as twilight had broken the horizon, but Pam's utterance had explained everything – he knew who he was again, and I must not have been a part of that recollection.

"Great. I'm happy for him."

I didn't mean it and yet I did. I was glad he hadn't lost himself forever, but inherently I understood he was gone, at least from my life. Maybe our love story was always meant to be short-lived, a flash in the pan so to speak – that's all it had been the first time around; why had I expected more?

Suddenly I felt empty and cold. No... numb, what I felt was numb.

"Don't lie," Pam retorted, "It's beneath you."

"Why are you here, Pam?" I quipped, anger rife in my tone. I wanted to wallow; I wanted to mourn and feel the entirety of my loss – Gran, Fintan…and now Eric.

"He has a thing… you could call it an obsession or a fear that he'll happen upon an unglamourable human… something to do with his Maker, I think…" She shrugged her misunderstanding, "He felt you earlier and he accepts that in his weakened state he shared his blood... He wanted to glamour the human who had accepted it… you – half-faery hybrid, whatever you are; he doesn't remember and I didn't offer details and I didn't feel like correcting him..."

She was babbling almost incoherently. It was so… unPam-like.

The volume of her voice dropped, and she sounded almost disheartened, "But you cannot be glamoured… And... he can't find out..."

She looked away from me, but I saw the glint of red in the corner of her eyes, "I offered to come and do it for him… to save your life. You must know that I quite… like you," She spit out the words like they were poison on her tongue, and I watched her flick away a single red tear, "And you made him happy, cared for him. You love him…"

Tears spilled from my eyes in hordes; I was unable to thwart them.

She continued in a hushed whisper, a choppiness in her speech that belied her own sadness, "And he loved you; I could feel it… If he ever remembers your time together, he'd end me for letting him kill you... He'd meet the sun... We'd all perish..."

Then suddenly, she stiffened, becoming almost robotic, "I am commanded to tell you he will send a witch to dissolve your bond…"

 _What_?! I screamed in my head, and the tears became an outright flood.

"Also, I must give you this," She thrust out a check at me, her movements mechanical as if she was resisting them but to no avail. When I didn't reach for it, she tucked it into my trembling hand, "It is for fifty-thousand dollars; for your efforts and attentions, he said to tell you. He insists you are to be recompensed for the time you spent watching over him..."

I felt like a whore being paid for services rendered, and I told Pam so, sending her away with her tail tucked between her legs, shucking lightening balls at her feet even though I wasn't mad at her as much as I was mad at myself. I'd let myself believe – and hope against hope – he'd remember me once his past memories had returned. But I was fucking wrong.

Oh, so fucking wrong.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

 _A/N: As always many thanks to my awesome beta Mrskroy and to every reader/reviewer!_

 _Google Translations:_

 _Jag är din = I am yours_

 _Älska med mig. Jag vill vara en med dig. = Make love to me. I want to be one with you._


	33. La Douleur Exquise

_A/N: A chapter in five pieces: Denial, Bargaining, Depression, Anger, and Acceptance – part 1 & 2\. The (italics) in Depression are Sookie's thoughts._

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOo Acceptance, Part 1 OoOoOoOoOo**

* * *

 _Quite Some Time Later_

"Sookie, please, take a seat," Desmond said, sweeping his hand out to indicate I should sit in the chair next to his at the conference room table. We usually held client mediations or staff meetings in here, but Desmond had booked out the large room just for us and the news he was about to deliver.

It was a bad sign.

"You have been summoned by official decree to see the Louisiana King," Desmond paused, clasping my hands in his and offering me a conciliatory frown, "…to stand trial for your crimes against the vampire."

I had expected it would circle around in time to bite me squarely in the ass – my exploits becoming legend despite my efforts to bury them – accepting the inevitability of some swift vampire justice coming my way a long time ago. In truth, I thought I'd get in trouble for it sooner.

You can't screw with people's lives without consequence.

"And will it be fair? Will I be allowed to defend my case?"

"I do not know, my sweet Goddaughter; I just do not know..."

* * *

Back at the farmhouse, I dressed to the nines for my final act – choosing a dress I had purchased years ago that had sat in my closet without wear. Pulling it over my head, I examined myself in my full-length mirror noting that from a distance the red flowers looked more like blood splattered against the white cloth. I slipped my feet into crimson red heels, enjoying how powerful and sexy they made me feel, and grabbed my clutch before descending the stairs to meet Desmond at his car, parked in my newly paved driveway.

A dirge playing on the radio, I couldn't help but note its appropriateness, readying myself for an eventful night.

In some sense, I expected that the journey to the King's would be a funeral march. Desmond was uneasy, squeezing my hand, and glancing my direction every so often as we tore down the road towards what I believed would most certainly be my end. His feelings were conflicted, unsure of how to handle my resolve to face down the vampire king alone.

"But I have to agree," He conceded, "After all this time, you do seem peaceful, unburdened…"

And I was.

Looking back at my life – both of them – I had to admit without the slightest bit of regret or despair that despite my many tribulations that I'd had a good run. And wasn't that all anyone could ask for?

"But you know," Desmond uttered, continuing his short speech, "You should not wear that necklace if you're going to pretend to be contrite and apologize for what you've done."

"But I'm not sorry, and I'm not going to lie and say that I am…"

I responded calmly as I thumbed at my trophy, remembering how exactly I'd come to be in this position…

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOo**

 **FLASHBACK | FLASHBACK | FLASHBACK**

 **oOoOoOoOo**

* * *

 **OoOoOoOoOo Denial OoOoOoOoOo**

* * *

In the instant after I ran Pam away – shucking lightening balls at her feet – my upheaved world turned shades of grey… literally, figuratively…

Did it really matter?

Everything seemed unreal; the air suffocating and scarce as I panted through my disbelief. I lost all ability to focus, staring through the check that was trembling in my hands. Mechanically, I walked into the house; I couldn't remember where the check fell – I didn't care. I didn't want Eric's money – I wanted ERIC, but… that option was no longer available to me. I couldn't even bring myself to turn on a light, and shuffled around in the dark, bumping into things as I walked in aimless circles – there'd be some bruises in the morning, but it didn't matter.

I did note that it hadn't exactly been painful and I couldn't help but wonder… slumping to the ground, I pinched myself roughly, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping I could rouse myself from the nightmare I'd just experienced. I couldn't feel it, but I knew inherently the endeavor to rouse myself awake had been doomed to fail, so ultimately I wasn't all that surprised – I guess I just couldn't bring myself to feel anything. If I felt broken now, what would it feel like when the bond got ripped out of me? I didn't want to know. My mind reeled, trying to deny the events of the nights, rewriting them as a hallucination instead of a reality…

Denial; I was in it deep.

"It didn't happen; it didn't happen; it didn't happen…"

I chanted over and over to myself clutching my arms around my knees – which were drawn into my chest – rocking myself back and forth on the wooden floor of the foyer. Tears streamed down my face autonomically – my dulled and lifeless blues succumbing to a sadness I'd yet to start feeling – and I didn't waste the energy it would take to wipe them away.

In the blink of an eye, I spied dawn breaking, light scattering in through the windows and bespeckling the small space.

Had I lost hours without noticing? It seemed so.

Standing up, my limbs felt heavy and detached, as if they didn't belong to me. My muscles burned and ached, and I imagined it was because I hadn't slept or eaten in over 24 hours. How much longer could I go before exhaustion took me? I didn't know, but come hell or high water I was going to solve that mystery.

I just didn't care – about myself, about anything.

I ghosted from room to room, searching for my phone, which I had left… somewhere. Finding it, I discovered altogether too many text messages and voicemails from Meels, Desmond, Tara, Jason, among others… None were from Pam, or Eric. 'Of course not,' I thought to myself. But the messages all mirrored the same sentiments and inquiries – _U OK?... Where are you?... My sympathies... Let me know you are ok... Why haven't I heard from you?_ – and I began to delete them in batches, barely pausing to read most of them – oh, my phone bill was due soon – erasing them all in minutes and delivering one single response in a large group text.

 _OK. W/Eric._

I didn't want to send the text – not because I had offered a lie; I wanted to lie, pretend last night had never happened – because the effort spent typing those few characters threatened to break the hazy cloud that had overtaken my mind. I needed the numbness; it seemed like it was probably the only thing keeping me sane – my tenuous grasp on reality slipping.

Was that a spot on the ceiling?

I couldn't tell for sure, so I grabbed a chair, standing on it to get a closer look – it _was_ a spot, some sort of food stain. Jase must have done it while watching his sports games over at Gran's; when he got excited, boy, did he lose control of his limbs – the couch was covered in plastic on Sundays, and there was a good reason for that.

Without thinking, I collected up the cleaning supplies I'd need to scrub out that damn spot. It was my nemesis, and I was going to hold dominion over it. I'd lost it, and I was okay with that. I even opened the bond, to feel Eric's mind humming in the background – it made my upside-down world swing right-side up. Like he was merely dead for the day, waiting for night to fall before coming by to whisk me away, to apologize for sending Pam to play such a cruel trick on me. I silenced the nagging voice that tried to tell me it was little more than a pretty lie – I wasn't ready to accept that.

My heart demanded I pretend nothing had happened, and it was the only way I could keep it still, from aching and beating so hard that it broke my chest.

I scrubbed the spot for hours, but it refused to budge; the chair rumbled beneath me, threatening to fall – or was I the one who was shaking? The cleaner burned my hands and arms as I became sloppier at dispensing it, allowing the liquid to slip into the rubber gloves through the openings about my forearms. How did I manage to slosh it all the way up there? I couldn't say. But the slight modicum of pain didn't divert me from my course – that spot had quickly become the fucking bane of my existence, consuming my every thought.

You've lost it, Stackhouse.

"I don't care," I retorted, out loud to myself emotionlessly – robotically – apathy rife within me.

Finally, and with great effort, I won the battle, but I could not summon the strength to revel in my victory. No, with my distraction removed I was left alone with my own thoughts, and I became a little more animated – searching for the next war to be fought against dust bunnies or food stains, stroking the tie in my mind that was Eric. He was still dead, but not gone – at least not yet.

But a persistent knock at the door told me that reality had come to call, and I spied a witchy-looking woman standing on my front porch, peering through the paned glass window, motioning for me to come open the door.

I wasn't ready to lose the bond, and I wasn't sure if I ever would be.

I could only hope that the woman on the other side of the door would understand my plight, take pity on me, and accept something in exchange for leaving me be. I would give up anything to keep the bond, to hold onto my tie to Eric – my heart, my sanity, whatever she wanted. I was a desperate woman, afraid to lose the man she loved. Without the bond to prove our connection, how was I ever going to get him back?

Surely, the witch and I could reach some sort of agreement.

* * *

 **OoOoOoOoOo Bargaining OoOoOoOoOo**

* * *

"Won't you please come in?"

I asked, my southern upbringing overwhelming my desire to ignore the visitor at my doorstep, gesturing my acceptance of her into my home. 'Honey, not vinegar,' I thought to myself, forcing a fake, half-moon smile. But part of me hoped that I looked as wrung out as I felt – if niceness didn't sway her, maybe pity would.

She had the map with the heart drawn on it clutched in her hand, crumpled up like it had been pulled from the trash. The sight of it threatened to break me, but I pulled myself out of my tailspin – now was not the time to cry... unless tears would pull at her heartstrings. I wondered if I should try that, if all else failed.

"I am Susannah Stackhouse, but most people call me Sookie."

I swept my hand out, offering to shakes hers hello, but she did not make any moves in kind. Not a good sign. She was all business, and to get her on my side – to see my point of view – I needed pleasantries... or if I could find Eric's check, maybe I could sign it over. I didn't know how much he'd paid for this service, but surely fifty grand would be more...

"I'm Octavia, Octavia Fant; I am here on behalf of a client to perform a spell for you. You may be reticent to trust me, but I assure you I have your best interests at heart. We even share a mural acquaintance..."

Obviously – Eric. But she surprised me, and I realized why her name had sounded so familiar to me.

"Amelia Broadway, my apprentice."

I smiled, more genuinely – a friend of a friend; it wasn't even impolite to ask for a favor, such a small one at that. I'd hidden the bond before, fairly successfully, and I intended to convince her to let me do it again.

"She's my roommate!"

I tried to bring excitement to my tone, but failed somewhat. I'm not sure it would've mattered from the sour expression she gave as she looked me up and down, examining me, sniffing me – witches did that too?!

'Enchantment is heavy within this one, in her blood. This bond was borne not through mutual exchanges, but by magics.'

She said in her head, thinking I couldn't hear her – good to know that Amelia could keep a secret.

Octavia continued audibly, "I imagine my protégé is to blame for your current state; she stole some curious items from me a year ago, and I assumed she'd simply been trying to unspell Bob. Well... No matter! That will make my job that much easier."

Color me shocked; we'd already moved past small talk and straight to the quick before I'd even had the chance to offer her a beverage.

I tried anyways.

"Would you like something to drink?"

I ignored her previous remark entirely because she hadn't said it aloud, but also because it was untrue. Amelia had reignited my bond, but magic didn't force its existence – Eric and I had properly bonded, even if it had been in another reality. But that was my business, not hers.

I was rankled for sure, but I didn't let it show. Honey, not vinegar – I chanted in my head – honey, not vinegar.

"No, thank you. I'd like to perform the ritual and be on my way."

"Please don't take my bond," I said, biting back mutinous tears, noting she flinched at my use of the word 'bond.'

"Miss Stackhouse…" Hesitancy accompanying her questioning tone.

Oh yeah, I wasn't supposed to remember Eric or the bond, but I did thanks to the faked glamouring à la Pam.

"Sookie. Please, call me Sookie."

I interrupted her, trying to insist she be more personal, seeking to dispel the all-business atmosphere she had wedged between us.

"Miss Stackhouse," She replied, ignoring my request but accepting – confirmed by her thoughts – that her intel had been shoddy and I was more aware than she'd previously supposed, "Surely, you don't want to share a bond with a vampire who wants to take it away from you."

She couldn't have wounded me more if she'd hit me with her fists instead of her words. She had poked at the open sore I'd been trying to ignore. When Eric's memories returned, our time together had been erased, and, according to Pam, unless I wanted to risk my death – and hers and his, on the off chance he ever remembered – I couldn't go and try to remind him.

I was between a rock and a hard place; the bond was all I had, and I didn't want to let it go.

"I do!" I sobbed out, collapsing to the floor.

"Miss Stackhouse," Octavia chided, offering me her hand and pulling me to my feet, "You are just scared..."

"I'll give you $50,000!" I exclaimed abruptly and at an unexpected volume, anxiety pervading my timbre.

I had not located, or even hunted for, the check from Eric, but I'd tear the house apart piece by piece if the money would motivate her to go and leave me whole. Plus, I didn't want it; maybe giving it away would make me feel more like a forgotten lover and less like a paid whore.

A girl could hope, right?

"It's not about the money, but if you insist on resorting to bribery, you should know my client has paid me $500,000 to remove your side of the bond," My jaw dropped; he wanted to be rid of me that badly... "Since you were not glamoured prior, I will send a vampire come nightfall to remove your memories of our interaction and the heartbreak that may occur between now and then..."

"I can't be glamoured," I grumbled, summoning light to my palms to expose my secret nature.

Self-preservation be damned.

Octavia's eyes widened into saucers and she mouthed 'how', momentarily struck dumb, and I offered her piqued mind the reason, "My powers developed early courtesy of the bond; they're tied to it..."

Up until that point, I'd forgotten my powers had been tied to the bond; apparently I was going to lose everything today.

"You are part-Fae!" Shock evident in her tone, her mask of indifference cracked and broken, "A vampire bonded to a fairy... wonders never cease."

"I guess they do since you're here to take the bond." I quipped back.

"Touché," She reached for my hand, "I gave my client my word, and I am not a dishonorable woman," Her tone conciliatory, "But your secrets will remain your own. Now breathe deeply..."

The external pain was minimal, just a slight pinch, but internally it felt like a hole was being torn by a butcher knife into my chest cavity.

"It is only because your heart knows what it is losing," She reminded me, patting my shoulder and holding back my hair as I wretched up bile and stomach acid.

Finally, after several minutes, my nausea abated and sadness swelled over me, drowning my soul in misery. My world turned dark blue and cold.

Octavia took that as her cue to leave.

She turned to me before she left, "If it makes you feel better, I was able to leave your fairy magic in place."

It did not offer any modicum of comfort. Magics had destroyed everything in my life, and she thought I'd find relief that I still had some tucked inside me.

In fact, it served to depress me further.

My feet carried me out the front door – outside of my own volition – and in a split second, I stood before Gran and Fintan's graves. I lay down between them, the sharp grass and dirt cutting into my clothing. I didn't even flinch at the slight sting it rang through me. The numbness had abated, my bargaining had failed, and now an Eric-shaped hole had been cut out of my heart, the spot where my bond had been not so many hours before. I'd been hollowed out like a decorated pumpkin for Halloween, and I was truly scared to suffer the overwhelming burden of my many losses.

"I need you, Gran," I sobbed out, "Now more than ever."

And then stillness overtook me, tethering me to the ground.

* * *

 **OoOoOoOoOo Depression OoOoOoOoOo**

* * *

"How fucking long has she fucking been like this?"

"Couldn't tell ya..." ( _Me neither)_ , "Found her out in the graveyard, lying between our Gran and that Fintan guy. She looked like she'd been there for days…"

 _(Maybe. Depends what day it is now.)_

"How the fuck don't you know, Jason Stackhouse!?"

 _(Cause one of us in this room's a big ol' liar, and it's not my brother.)_

"She texted us! Said she was with her guy," ( _Wasn't; won't be ever again)_ , "Said she was okay!"

 _(Yeah… that was the denial speaking.)_

"Someone has to stay with her, Jase; she can't be left alone this state."

 _(No, just let me die from my heartbreak. Fintan did it; why can't I?)_

"Shit, look at her phone, Tara! Someone named Pam keeps callin' her! God, there's like a million missed calls! Ya think we oughta call her back?"

 _(Don't bother; tell her to go away – you too. Sookie's not here anymore. I'm just the shell in her place until her body withers away…)_

"We don't know who the fuck that is, Jase! And we're definitely not letting just anyone come bother Sooks while she's practically comatose."

 _(Catatonic's more apropos, but close enough...)_

"Shit! Who's Dr. Ludwig? Look," _(Can't see it...)_ , "She's got some doc's number in here! On speed dial! What the fuck's she doin' with a doc on speed dial?!"

 _(She smacked him, I heard it…)_

"I don't fucking know, Jason fucking Stackhouse! Fucking call the fucking doctor!"

* * *

"Girlie, you've got to swallow. Hold her mouth open, Thalia…"

"What the fuck are you doin' to my sister!?" _(Doesn't matter...)_ "Don't fucking put your hands in her mouth! Don't let that damn vamp touch her! She's not an animal; she's a person for Christ's sakes!"

 _(Not really. Part-fairy, but mostly… empty. Shush now; dead inside...)_

"Ludwig help Sookie. You no talk. Pain follow smart mouth."

 _(Ain't that the truth. Pain follows everything...)_

"Don't fuckin' tell me how to handle my sister's care!"

 _(Bad Jason. That was a mistake. You're going to regret that...)_

"Look now," ( _Glamour; bye, Jase. See you never...)_ , "Go. Come back morning." ( _Damn...)_

"North Man's woman," ( _DON'T SAY THAT... oh, maybe she doesn't know...)_ , "Swallow pill."

 _(No. Can't move... Don't want to...)_

"She's not responding; Thalia, stop. I'm going to place a feeding tube."

 _(Won't work, but nice try...)_

* * *

"OMG… don't die, Sookie…" ( _Oh, Meels)_ , "We'll find a way around this. I'll ask Octavia for help; she's so powerful, if anyone can help she can…"

 _(Helped enough already… Ripped my heart from my chest... took my bond...)_

"You gotta fight this, Sookie. You've got so much to live for! Come back to us… There's Eric! You remember, Eric?"

 _(Not the issue... no Eric here anymore, a hole instead…)_

"You gotta believe he's worried sick!"

 _(Doubtful... he doesn't even know me... I miss him...)_

"She's crying!" _(Who else is here?)_ "Is that a good sign? Oh Sookie, I know you're in there somewhere. Don't give up!"

 _(Too late... broken and hollow... lost my heart... my soulmate...)_

* * *

"Well, sweet pea," _(Ugh, who let Pam in?)_ "At least this explains why you've refused to answer or return my calls…"

 _(Yep, hiding inside myself...)_

"You know, you're not the woman I thought you were. I don't think I quite like you anymore."

 _(…What?... Who cares who you like?! Why be an ass!?)_

"Wallowing and fueling your own misery, laying there in your own filth…"

 _(…Shut it! That's not my fault! Let me have my pain!)_

"Don't worry about trying anymore; you've done it – you are officially the smelliest human of the year."

 _(She chuckled; she laughed at me! What the fuck? Who does that?!)_

"You're not strong or fiery at all; you're just pathetic and weak."

 _(Excuse me?! I'm not weak; I'm in pain!)_

"You know… if you think about it, this is really all your fault."

 _(Oh my god, I want to slap the shit out of you!)_

"How could it not be? You're the one who lied to him and took advantage of him in his fugue state…"

 _(OH HELL FUCKING NO!)_

And there it was; the straw that finally broke the camel's back.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I tore the feeding tube out and screamed at the top of my lungs until my voice broke and my throat ached. I heard my yell rattle the windows, settling into a deafening echo – the empty hole inside me seething, filling to the brim with ire. With all the energy I could muster, I launched myself from the bed, slapping Pam before I slumped to the ground – my atrophied limbs unable to support me – clutching at my head and chest as fury whipped through me, my powers sizzling and crackling in my palms.

"There you are, sweet pea. Welcome back. Sorry to tease you so harshly, but we agreed that would work – not one fucking word was true, of course. Well except..." She backpedaled, "You really do smell something awful... Got to go! You can thank us later," Pam said, before winking at me and vamping away before I could throw a fucking fireball at her.

"You bitch!" I rasped after her, knowing she wouldn't hear me.

I was livid, at myself but mostly in other directions.

And before I realized it, a consuming anger with an undeniable viciousness had bloomed within me, turning my blues blood-red.

* * *

 **OoOoOoOoOo Anger OoOoOoOoOo**

* * *

The beast railing and rattling inside me, the monster who controlled me through anger, demanded blood, and I knew inherently the only way I could satiate it without causing me to spiral into an oblivion of shame I'd never be able to crawl out of – by exacting the final death of Appius Livius Ocella, Eric's sick fuck of a maker.

The decision had been easy, and swift; and I knew intrinsically once it was over, we would both be free.

My target identified, all I had left to do was locate him – and supercharge my magical powers so that I could best him in fight...or at least, I'd die trying... and I knew exactly where to turn to meet both of my needs – the faeries.

They'd found him before, and they could do it again – I was sure of it.

I was crazed by anger, but at least I had started showering again, and I'd even left the comfort of the farmhouse to begin target practice. Progress; that felt like fucking progress.

It wasn't as if I had been trying to win the "smelliest human of the year" award, as Pam had suggested; I had just been unable to summon the energy to move, hollowed out inside from the loss of the bond. Previously I'd allowed the emptiness to devour me, but now that fury had settled in its wake I was embracing my growing rage like a child clutches at their favorite toy.

I'd even danced in the light from the fire I'd set in the house across the cemetery from the farmhouse – more target practice.

It had been the Old Compton family residence – Desmond told me before Gran and Fintan died, much to his chagrin. After breaking a window to check out the inside – it'd been abandoned for decades, or so I thought – I'd discovered exactly where Bill fucking Compton had been hiding out all those years. If the acrid smell of old blood and death hadn't been enough to assault my senses and turn my stomach, the veritable Sookie shrine – complete with a stolen hairbrush and a pair of my panties – had succeeded in sending me over the edge.

Who was I kidding? I'd been over the edge for a while.

I wished I could bring Bill back to life so he could fucking die again as I tore the pictures from the walls and ripped them to shreds. What a psychotic asshole. But conceding to the impossibility of that desire, I set the place ablaze instead, tossing a fireball borne of my magics behind me as I exited.

My eyes burned with the same intensity as the fire.

Reducing the fucking pit of a house to cinders had been satisfying, but my beast had not yet been sated. Target practice was all well and good but my anger demon wanted blood – Appius's blood. As the bubbling ire consumed my every waking thought, revenge fantasies flitting about my head like sugar plum fairies, I knew killing him was the only way to quell my pain.

* * *

"I need your help," The seriousness in my tone impossible to ignore.

The fairy clapped her hands together and smiled broadly, "Oh, cousin, I thought you'd never ask!" Her excitement bubbling in her eyes, her mirth evident in her mannerisms.

It hadn't been difficult to get in touch with Claudine, my fairy cousin. For one thing, she had come to Fintan's funeral to pay her respects, but for another thing, she had been the fairy infiltrating my mind – she tried to play it off that she was my faery godmother, but I trusted her as far as I could throw her, which, as it turned out, was really fucking far.

Claudine was one of the Crane triplets, and while Claude and Claudette didn't think I was much – a less than halfing whose ties to the Fae crown drew their jealousy and ire – Claudine thought I hung the moon; in short, she was an ass-kisser. But it definitely made her a helpful ally in my quest to kill Appius.

* * *

"This is Preston," Claudine giggled, pushing a faery man towards me, "He guards our Great Granddaddy when he's on duty. He's one of the Faery Realm's best warriors. He can train you to fight."

"Pleased to meet you," My anger had yet to quash the manners instilled in me by Gran, even if I did sometimes follow the phrase up by calling the other person a 'fucker' in my mind.

Preston wasn't hard on the eyes, but my mind was consumed by one thing and one thing alone – a vampire name Appius fucking Ocella. Nothing haunted my ever-waking fantasies more than the satisfaction I'd gain from delivering his true death. My nightly dreams were of Eric, but I knew better than to believe they were anything more than fantasies – and each one had ended with me waking up, screaming into the dawn, my fucking sweat-laced skin stuck to singed sheets.

I stopped buying new ones, seemed like a fucking waste of money.

* * *

 _Weeks later…_

I had moved out of my apartment with Amelia in Shreveport and back into the little farmhouse of Hummingbird Lane, which Gran had bequeathed me in her will. Jason came over sometimes; we shot guns together in the backyard, and it brought us closer.

Family was all I had.

While my friends shunned me, unable to stomach the swirling vortex that was my fury, the Fae reveled in my passions, stoking the fires inside my soul to keep the smoldering embers of vengeance from dying out. Pam told me I'd fallen in with a bad crowd, chiding me for embracing the Fae, so I told her to go the fuck away and never come back, still irritated by the manner in which she jolted me from my catatonic state – even if it had worked.

She scowled at me before vamping away. In turn, I rescinded her invitation to my house and slammed the front door – just for good measure.

Under Preston's tutelage, I honed my talents, becoming more powerful, stronger than I'd ever been, wielding my magics with a precision and acuity unparalleled by my sparring partners. I was ready, and as fate would have it, the faeries subsequently had found Appius, locked in a stasis outside of time, in a cave off of one of the Greeks Islands. Claudine agreed to take me there, to release him from the spells so I could battle with him to the death.

Bring. It. Fucking. On.

* * *

Claudine and I stood outside the entrance to a small sea cave off the Greek island of Hydra, peering through the entrance into an abyss of pitch-black darkness. I kicked a rock into the apparent nothingness, listening to it rattle and clatter against the stone floor, the sound getting smaller but not disappearing – it was as if the cavern was a bottomless pit.

"In there?"

I pointed – a silver beveled dagger sheathed against my forearm, another on the opposite side of my body wrapped about my calf. I didn't expect to use them, but when it came to sick fucks like Appius the rule of the game was 'better safe than sorry.'

Claudine embraced me in a quick hug, drawing me to her body before I pushed her back unceremoniously, a frown grabbing at my lips.

"Don't get weepy on me, Claudine; you know I like you better when you're cold and heartless. I've beat everyone I've come up against; he doesn't stand a fucking chance."

Her soft eyes glistened before her countenance turned impassive, her hands crackling with fire, "Fucking kill him, Sookie."

Yes, fucking ma'am.

She released the manifestation of her powers into the cavern, and I heard Appius roar, freed from his magical bindings. I charged head on, readied for the fucking battle of my life, and my beast practically salivated, its appetite for blood ravenous.

* * *

"It's been a long time, Appius. Come, give your Angel of Death a kiss."

I taunted him – echoing the words he had spoken in my other reality to announce his presence in Sophie-Anne's throne room – as I popped before him. I didn't bother to shield my nature or my strength – it wasn't reckless; it's what I should've done in my first life, before everything turned to shit. Even after all the time I had spent training, the fire in my soul thirsty for vengeance hadn't waned. If anything, at the sight of Eric's maker, it blazed like a hot charcoal grill doused with lighter fluid.

"Ocella," He gritted out, attempting to correct me, contorting his expression into as scowl at my use of his familiar name, "Who are you?" He growled, launching himself at me – fingers curled and claw-like – with intentions to grab me.

Pop.

And I was across the expansive space from him; he stopped just short of hitting the jagged wall, his hands thrusting out against it to still his momentum. Stalagmites fell from the ceiling as a result of the impact, shattering as they hit the cold floor.

"Now now now," I waggled my finger at him, admonishing him as if he were a human child, "It's quite rude to ask someone a question they've already answered. Perhaps… you need a quick lesson in manners!"

A lightening ball bloomed in my hand and flew in his direction in the blink of an eye, at such a speed he could not dodge it; he stumbled back with a look of disbelief.

"Come at me, old man!"

I teased, watching his fangs drop and his features turn harsh and cruel. 'Good, get mad, I want a fucking fair fight,' I thought to myself, fury coursing through my veins as I rode the sweet wave of my adrenaline – even though it was threatening to rent my body to pieces from the inside.

I didn't care – as long as Appius met his final fucking end first.

Appius flew at me, and I allowed him into my fighting sphere – the bubble of space in front of me that Preston had taught me to protect – raising my ignited fists and exchanging blows as he thrashed his head from side to side, looking for flesh to sink his fangs into. My skin remained unmarred, but his riddled with burns and cuts as I drew a blade, ensuring I committed a blood offense against him.

Vampires really fucking hated that.

I pressed the blade to my lips and pretended to lick his blood off – all of it for show, to rankle and distract him. He shook in his fury, so consumed by his beast that he didn't bother to realize he couldn't fucking feel me because I hadn't actually ingested his blood.

"Was this your plan then? Is this why you exhumed me from the suspended animation my son placed me in? To steal my blood!?"

"Oh, Appius, Appius, Appius…"

He cut me off, screaming, "OCELLA! You may NOT call me Appius, fairy! That right is EARNED, not given!"

"Appius!"

I spit at him, sticking out my tongue; my thumbs poised at my cheeks and my fingers waggling about. Childish? Oh yes, but I didn't fucking care. I wanted him to be as mad as I was.

My hubris was speaking, and I paid the price for allowing my ego and anger to drive my actions almost instantly.

He quaked in his bloodlust, his eyes filling with black and losing the small modicum of humanity that had been shining beneath them. When I jerked my hands down from my face to assume a fighting stance – to quit our verbal sparring and get onto the good stuff – he grabbed my wrists, sinking his fingernails into my skin. It should've hurt more, but adrenaline tended to numb pain – which was the very reason why I'd clung to my anger for so long.

Appius tried to capture my eyes to glamour me into submission.

"Still yourself, and bare your neck for me, girl. You will be my newest child. You have the right temperament to be a vampire," Violent, bloodthirsty, and powerful? I couldn't wholly disagree, "And then once you have risen, I will introduce you to your brother, who has been quite a bad boy, and is in need of a spanking…"

He shuddered, obviously thinking of how he would degrade Eric, and force him to suffer his punishments. Fucking gross old perv, and I told him so, shocking him to the core, distracting him. I kneed him as hard as I could in the balls, and twisted my wrists away from him – once again, popping across the room to widen the berth between us.

"You cannot be glamoured…" He sputtered out, his tenor trembling and shaky.

His fear was delicious.

"Nope," I said matter-of-factly with a little bit of cheekiness thrown in for good measure, pacing back and forth with lightening balls ominously perched on my palms – he winced at each sizzle, "And while we're on the topic, you decided to teach your progeny – Eric," I popped the 'c' for fucking fun, "That unglamourable humans should be culled…"

"THEY SHOULD BE!"

Bad time to interrupt.

"YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE WHO LIVES OR DIES!"

My whole body ignited in flames as a wave of rage crashed through me – my pupils dilated black, I was sure of it. I wasn't surprised, since it had happened once before, but Appius stood transfixed. I watched as the radiating heat from my flames flicked away small layers of his skin, and Appius rubbed his arms furiously to try to limit their exposure – it only made it worse.

Now that was fucking funny to watch.

I walked over to him, still engulfed in blue and white flames, and tapped him on the head, pushing him to the ground. I snapped my fingers and encircled his wrists with fiery lights, kneeling down beside him to finally release my demons. Tears streamed down my face as I beat my hands against his chest, and I screamed out my pain at him.

On and on I went, placing every awful thing I'd been through at his feet, divesting myself of my misery. I ended my diatribe by recounting Eric's amnesia and how his loss had been my gain, and his gain had been my loss – fully expunging the poisonous infection of wrath clinging to my soul…

Suddenly, I didn't feel quite so angry anymore.

I stopped hitting Appius, noting that there was a rather large hole in his chest – like the one that had been carved out of mine where Eric had been. Then I raised myself and stood over him, allowing the flames about my body to die down until they vanished.

"Silly girl," Appius sneered at me, still pinned to the floor by my magics, flashing me his fangs, "You believe you can curry my son's favor by killing me; drag him back to you by performing a feat he cannot accomplish, to demand he repay you by binding himself to your side."

He could not have been more wrong.

I laughed loudly, maniacally, finally coming to a much-needed realization before responding to his petty utterance with a grin on my face and a fireball in my hand…

"I love Eric – I do, and I always will – but I'm not trying to force him back into my life. And I'm definitely not going to kill you for him..."

Appius had the gall to raise an eyebrow and smirk, believing I didn't have the heart to go through with my homicidal rage. What. A. Fucking. Idiot.

"He doesn't even know that I'm here," Or that I exist, "...I'm doing this for me!"

His expression dropped to one of sheer terror, and the beast inside me roared its victory as I shook, expelling light from the entirety of my body – reducing him to dust as quickly as if he had stood out in the midday sun.

I snatched up a necklace that clanged on the ground, tucking it into my pocket, as the last of the dying embers that had been Appius flaked away. 'Something to remember him by,' I thought to myself.

It was time to go home.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOo**

 **PRESENT DAY | PRESENT DAY | PRESENT DAY**

 **oOoOoOoOo**

* * *

 **OoOoOoOoOo Acceptance, Part 2 OoOoOoOoOo**

* * *

I didn't know why Eric had bothered to report the final death of his maker – or who had leaked the secret that Appius had died by my hands – but it was well within Eric's rights to demand justice.

I couldn't blame him for wanting to avenge the being who had given him a second life.

I'd done much the same, leaving Niall – who Claudine had insisted put the welfare of the fairy people above all else, even himself – to his own devices. In truth, he _had_ always put his people first, and although I'd been the victim of that devotion – him manipulating my life's course to save the Fae – it didn't make the notion any less true.

Plus, I had gotten twice what some people couldn't even imagine experiencing once – a love story, albeit short and bittersweet, that had transcended two realities. And a tragic love story, even if fleeting, full of high-highs and low-lows, was better than no love story at all.

"We're almost there," Desmond said, pulling me from my philosophical thoughts.

"What do you know of the Louisiana King? Is he cruel?"

I asked, thinking of Russell Edgington the Vampire King of Mississippi, who in my old reality had sought to overthrow Queen Sophie-Anne of Louisiana, wondering if the same scene had played out in this time.

"I cannot say; he has not made his presence known, although his coronation is impending... The vampires have been quite tight-lipped about the takeover, and the supe world is concerned a culling is imminent..."

Silence pervaded the rest of our drive, as happy memories of laughing and making love with Eric danced in my head. The vampires could take my life – for divesting Appius of his – but I would always have the time I spent with Eric, and somewhere deep inside me I knew that even in the event of my death those moments would be enough.

"The King holds court at a vampire bar named… Fangtasia?"

I sputtered out with disbelief – smoothing down my red and white dress – creating din in the car's small space and gaping at the garish neon sign as we pulled into one of the few empty parking spaces.

What the hell?

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined I'd die at the vampire equivalent of Disneyland.

* * *

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* * *

 _A/N: As always thanks to my amazing beta Mrskroy, who encouraged me to post midweek, and to each and every reader and reviewer!_


	34. Ett Nytt Perspektiv

_A/N: Alright, it's time to go out with a bang… enjoy!_

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 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

I peered out the car's windshield as the neon lights from the vampire bar's sign flickered, reflecting off the hood and flashing in my eyes. It reminded me of a carnival, and the flood of people lined up at the door had me wondering if Fangtasia was in fact the vampire equivalent of Disneyland. I'd never been to the theme park, but from what I'd seen in movies and on TV, it always looked a little over the top – and a lot of fun.

There were a lot of things I'd never gotten to do… that I'd never get to do.

It hit me like a freight train, knocking the breath right out of me…

'I'm literally sitting in a car, waiting… to die… at the hands of a vampire court… for killing an asshole vampire that most definitely deserved the true death.'

Of course, my fate was sealed; I had no justifications – no defense. I'd definitely done the crime, and apparently I'd resolved myself to do the time, to die. Since vampires didn't subscribe to the notion of jail, it was pretty easy to glean what my sentence was going to be…

What the hell was wrong with me?

Losing myself in my thoughts, thumbing at the hem of my red and white sundress, I felt my nerves finally kick in, causing adrenaline to flood my veins. I bit back the tears threatening to fall. No, I needed to keep my head high and accept my punishment – I had no regrets; I'd do it again if given the chance... But on the other hand, I really didn't want to die.

Why was I here at all? Why was I accepting my death as inevitable?

I could run… I should run… Or rampage…

I could light myself up like a Christmas tree and kill them all; it'd be reckless and stupid but…

"No…"

Desmond said, breaking the deafening silence in the vehicle and the murderous turn my thoughts had taken. I couldn't help but wonder if he had slipped into my head despite our previous agreement to never use our telepathic abilities to divest one another of privacy. But as he continued I realized he was actually answering my earlier question about whether the new vampire king of Louisiana held court at a vampire bar named Fangtasia.

"Well..." He recanted, "I cannot say for certain whether or not the vampire king holds court at Fangtasia... What I do know is that the location for your trial was chosen at the behest of Mr. Northman, who is the proprietor of this establishment."

His tone was all-business, serious and unwavering, but at closer inspection he was trembling ever so slightly. I didn't think on it for more than a moment, my mind otherwise occupied.

Eric.

My heart dropped to my stomach, beating wildly despite my efforts to still it. For some reason, while I had been mentally preparing myself for death, I had not even considered the possibility that Eric would be in attendance at the trial, and probably be the one to levy my sentence.

It would be an awful way to die – at the hands of a lover who did not remember me. Apparently Fate had designs to ferry me back into Eric's path, to punctuate our tragic love story with a final act that was sure to prove without a doubt that it was over.

What. A. Fucking. Bitch.

Desmond continued, clasping my hands and seeking my eyes, a hint of apology teeming in his.

"My dear goddaughter, there is something you need to know about Fangtasia..."

I quirked an eyebrow, curiosity spilling through me, demanding priority.

He hesitated, and the slight shakiness in his words coupled with his expression sent a jolt of fear through me. I waved for him to continue, betraying none of my trepidations on my countenance – despite my ever-growing terror.

"The bar has an underground dungeon that is lined with iron…"

Fuck.

Now I didn't just want to run; I _needed_ to.

While faeries with the essential spark – like me – were preternaturally powerful, we possessed the most inane weaknesses, iron and lemons. Despite the Fae's secretive nature, those little tidbits had become common knowledge – some vampires even carried iron with them, hoping to someday snag themselves a faery treat.

"Oh," I responded, squeezing his hand lightly before pulling mine away to fidget once again with the hem of my dress.

There was nothing else to say. Iron would disable my powers, rendering them useless; I was like a lamb going to the slaughter. But it wasn't the only thing that concerned me…

How did Eric even find out?

I'd kept the secret of my heritage close to the vest – or I thought I had, mentally flipping through the list of supes I'd met who might've betrayed me.

Over the years, very few vampires had discovered my nature – Thalia being the only one to actually sniff me out – and I'd taken great pains to keep it that way; I'd even registered for supernatural status without listing my bloodline. But as of late, it _had_ become harder to hide.

Enhancing my powers had given me the ability to mask my scent, but according to Pam, it had also served to increase the sweet-smell of my blood. Constantly using my magics to tamp down the aroma had been exhausting – almost impossible – and I had dropped the affectation on more than one occasion. I must have slipped up, at the wrong place or at the wrong time – my secret was out.

I could've kicked myself - most likely _I_ had betrayed me.

Fuck.

It didn't really matter who had told Eric because what was done was done, and in response, he had obviously insisted on a venue that would assure I had no options to protect myself, to delay or avert the judgment laid upon me. I'd be, quite literally, at the mercy of the court – one that possibly had plans to eat me for dinner. It was smart, an intimidation tactic meant to unnerve me – strategically genius – and I had to marvel at his ability to maneuver the situation into his control, and out of mine.

It also suggested there was zero chance I would survive the night.

"You could run?" Desmond suggested.

I _wanted_ to, I _needed_ to – I couldn't.

"No," I answered sadly.

Although I'd been pondering it myself, hearing my godfather mirror my own sentiments had washed away my flight plans like a soapy water bath does to dirt. If I ran, I'd be running forever, constantly worried that any vampire lurking in the shadows would be the one sent to drag me back to stand judgment for my supposed crimes against Appius.

A fate worse than death.

I flicked away the mutinous tear that dripped down my cheek, fully accepting that today was the day I was going to die, believing down in the bottom of my soul that a short life with bursts of happy moments was better than a long and miserable one.

Time to get this over with, Stackhouse.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

I leaned over the car's console to hug Desmond and say my goodbyes. Exiting, I smoothed down my dress and forced myself to walk towards the door, to my doom, refusing to look back one last time – at Desmond, at my life, at anything.

Outwardly, I looked confident; but inwardly, I was scared out my mind.

"There's always the Summerlands," Claudine offered in a small but hopeful voice, infiltrating my mind once again.

'There is that.'

I thought to myself before I mentally shoved her out, realizing that while I may never be reunited with Eric, I _would_ get to see my Gran and Fintan again, in the faery afterlife. A smile – a real one – tugged at the corners of my mouth, and serenity bloomed across my countenance. No matter the outcome of the trial, I _was_ guaranteed a happy ending – and no one could take that away from me.

I knocked once before the backdoor was opened, and I was ushered inside by a rough-looking vampire, who pulled me unceremoniously by the wrist towards the back of the bar through the crowd. I was shocked not only by the clothing – or lack thereof – worn by the guests, but that many of them were human! Amelia had told me that since the Great Revelation that some people had taken to practically worshipping the vampires, offering their bodies and blood in exchange for some small modicum of attention – anticipating that one day they'd be turned. It was definitely interesting to see vampire groupies up close – like watching a car wreck, horrifying but also mesmerizing.

I dropped my telepathic shields, for just a couple of seconds, morbidly curious to hear their thoughts.

I regretted that almost instantly.

Their perverted internal ramblings assaulted my mind _– sex, vampires, bite me, turn me, sex_ – which I had expected. But I was surprised – as I tamped down the bile burgeoning in my throat – that many of them also were thinking about me, and how much they hated me, as they watched the vampire drag me across the room.

What the fuck? I'd never even met these people.

At further inspection, it became obvious to me that they had all been glamoured – individually or as a group, I wasn't sure – but it effectively kept any of them from wanting to help me; in fact, most of them hoped I was going to die. I doubted I had been exposed as a telepath, so I didn't assume it was another device designed to scare me – it was, however, a handy-dandy way to ensure I'd have no rescuers.

Clever.

The vampires really were covering all their bases, so to speak.

The brutish vampire finally let go of my wrist and pushed me towards a dark wooden door without preamble, standing behind me with his arms crossed to block my only path to freedom.

I rubbed at the deepening bruise left by his grip and reached for the doorknob – thinking for some reason of the one I'd gone through to enter my brave new world. The two didn't look the same, but a door had led me into this world and now one would lead me out – it felt… almost poetic, like everything had in some sense come full circle.

He growled menacingly, at my slow movements I supposed, and then whooshed to my side to throw the door open and knock me through the threshold – slamming the door behind me, removing my only light source.

Stairs.

I realized as I tumbled down a couple of them before managing to grab the rail at the side. I reached up with my free hand, patting around my neck to discover that my necklace had fallen off, and I scrambled to find it. There was something sticky on the step – gross – and I was thankful I couldn't see what it was, quickly locating the small metal pendant and threading it back about my neck.

"Hello? Hello? I can't see anything! If you want me to come down, you need to turn on the light!"

I yelled out after testing to see if my powers would ignite – they did not. I didn't care if my utterance was perceived as aggressive or defiant. Vampires could see in the dark, but I certainly could not, and I wasn't going to risk falling down anymore stairs. Even if I did fully believe I was about to die, it didn't mean I was eager to potentially break my neck.

Maybe I had more hope I would actually survive than I'd been willing to admit.

I heard a clap, and a harsh fluorescent light turned on above me. I closed my eyes for a second, biting back tears as I remembered how Eric had used clappers throughout his house in my first reality. The memory passed quickly, and I rose from the step and brushed the dirt off my dress – relieved to discover the stickiness had been beer and not blood – before descending the staircase.

Reaching the cement floor, I turned the corner and spied yet another dark wooden door. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves for what lay on the other before twisting the handle and entering Fangtasia's dungeon.

The expansive space was relatively empty, and unnervingly clean – a chemical odor hanging in the air. A panel of four vampires sat behind a small cloth-covered table with an unoccupied throne between them. The vampire to the left of the vacant seat rose at my entry, inhaling sharply and narrowing her eyes at me. She indicated with the gesture of her hand exactly where they wanted me to sit, in the single metal folding chair across from the table.

Eric was nowhere to be seen, and I hoped it meant he wasn't going to show.

I was on my own and at the mercy of a vampire court.

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

"The King will be with us shortly, Sookie."

One of the three male vampires offered, explaining why the trial was not yet underway.

I sat with my legs crossed at the ankles and my hands in my lap, staring into the faces of the vampires sitting across the table from me – completely aware that my faery scent was wafting through the dungeon, my ability to mask it disabled. I was scared, but I didn't shake or tremble, willing myself to be as still as them, watching it unsettle the one who had just spoken. I imagined he was the youngest among them, still sloughing off the last of his human mannerisms; he had needed a maker's command to suppress his desire to eat me.

Small mercies.

"You know," I said, slicing through the silence, "We haven't properly introduced ourselves, and given that this is a formal affair it seems only fitting. I'm Susannah 'Sookie' Stackhouse; you may call me Miss Stackhouse – only my friends call me Sookie, and we are not friends."

It was brash and bold, but I had nothing to lose.

"I'm Chuck," The youngest – I was now sure of it – chimed in, earning him a slap to the back of the head from the woman he was sitting next to.

"Do not engage with the human," She growled, "She has committed crimes against your sheriff…"

"Allegedly!" I spit out, watching her countenance flit from placid to shocked, and back again.

"Miss Stackhouse, you _will_ be quiet!"

She captured my eyes and tried to force her will on me. Well, let's get this out of the way, I thought, piping up once again.

"No, I will not!"

I smiled broadly, pleased with the result of my utterance. Crickets; I swore I heard crickets.

"You… cannot be glamoured…"

The male vampire to the right of the throne sputtered out, leaning forward across the table and threading his fingers together, obviously interested in me. Despite his steely countenance, his eyes danced with an eagerness to understand me, possibly dissect me – but for once I was embracing optimism. He acquiesced to my earlier request for pleasantries introducing each member of my jury, ignoring the woman vampire's scowl – he outranked her, I assumed.

"I am Bartlete Crowe, but you may call me Bart, and that is Karin," He pointed to the woman in the middle – she hissed at the use of her name; not very charmed to meet me, I was sure, "Don't mind her; she is perpetually in a foul mood. You have already met my progeny, Chuck," I giggled as he waved back at me, "And on my left is Bernard."

"Nice to meet y'all."

I nodded my head respectfully; it's what Gran would've wanted.

Suddenly, the vampires all stood and turned towards the door, and I felt obliged to do the same. Karin vamped over to open it, sweeping into a deep bow before anyone came into view.

And then someone did.

"Why, Miss Stackhouse," Russell said, clapping his hands together as he gazed over my form, "You are quite unpredictable; I was sure you would've flown the coop, as the human saying goes, the very moment the summons arrived," He turned to the panel and sauntered into the room, "Bart, it seems I owe you a large sum of money after all."

Just as I had suspected, Russell Edgington was the new vampire king of Louisiana. Why it was some big secret...? That I didn't know.

Karin remained in her position, obviously waiting for some sort of acknowledgement.

"Sit down already, Slaughterer; there's no need to stand on ceremony for Miss Stackhouse's sake…"

Karin grumbled as she vamped back to her seat without closing the door, casting me a murderous glare. Maybe she was always grumpy, as Bart had suggested, but I had the strangest sense it was personal – like she really didn't care for _me_.

Get in line behind everyone upstairs, I thought to myself.

"And leave Miss Stackhouse alone. We vampire are civil creatures; no reason to help her think otherwise," Russell chided her.

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. I was being tried for murder, and my sentence was likely to be death – why he was trying to put on airs was beyond me.

"Yes, Karin… play nice," Eric said, striding into the cold, dank dungeon and closing the door.

My heart sank in my chest, aching intolerably at the sight of my former lover, but none of the pain breached my stoic expression.

"Has anyone ever told you, Miss Stackhouse – it is alright if I call you Miss Stackhouse, I presume," Russell addressed me and I nodded my consent, "That you are quite a lot of trouble for a human-faery hybrid? Your great grandfather has delayed my coronation for _weeks_ demanding this court provide him evidence before bringing you up on charges. He even had the gall, if you can believe it," Oh yes, I definitely could, "To request the supernatural counsel issue a gag order against revealing my latest acquisition, my victory over Sophie-Anne. Legal nonsense at its finest!"

He threw his hands up in a theatrical show, sweeping his smoking jacket behind him as he pivoted on his heel to claim his throne. He sat down between Karin and Bart with a dramatic flourish that made me wonder if he had also been so animated in my previous reality – or if it was new to this one.

Not that it mattered.

Russell clapped his hands together, shaking his head at his folly, "Oh my! Where are my manners? Miss Stackhouse, I am King Russell Edgington, but you may call me King Russell."

Eric moved to stand behind the King, refusing the chair Karin tried to offer him – there was something between them; I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was there.

"It's not the first time I've been told I'm a little trouble magnet."

I answered, chuckling momentarily.

In fact, Pam had said it to me in my first life right before I slapped her – for a completely different reason, but it had happened in that order all the same.

Eric glared at me as I curtsied slightly before slipping back into my seat; his features were impassive and yet somehow harsh and cold. He drank in my form with a scowl, like he truly wanted to devour me whole, resting his scrutiny at the valley between my breasts – where my trophy lay – his eyes instantly wide and brimming with fire. Suddenly, he was beside me, ripping the necklace from about my neck. The chain gave way easily enough, but the force by which it was removed burned ever so slightly.

"So it is true then?" He spit out at me venomously – fangs descending – inches from my face, quaking in his apparent rage.

"Yes," I replied calmly, no hint of fear in my timbre.

Why lie? The evidence was there, dangling between his fingers. I knew he would recognize it, the Roman insignia distinct and unique, but it hadn't stopped me from wearing it. In truth, I couldn't bear to part with it. Although it had been my prize for killing Appius, it reminded me of Eric, of our bond, of our love.

It was all I had left of him.

"Sheriff," Russell admonished him, "Give Miss Stackhouse some space."

Eric vamped back to the new King of Louisiana's side, hissing at me and throwing daggers with his eyes.

"We already suspected she killed your maker. We asked her here to allow her to explain, and if she cannot…" Eric's anger-filled countenance broke into a creepy, self-satisfied smile, "Then her life will belong to you, just as our laws dictate..."

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

Eric slapped iron manacles down on my wrists – shackling me to ensure my powers would remain ineffective outside of Fangtasia's dungeon – as he roared his victory, my life awarded to him after I refused to explain not only _how_ I had killed Appius, but _why_.

Some secrets were going to die with me.

"You can kill her, turn her, or release her, Sheriff Northman – the choice is yours; in the eyes of the supe world, she belongs to you, and you alone," Russell declared, effectively ending the trial as he dismissed the jury.

It was fair – and expected – I hadn't tried to avoid my Fate, not that I could have anyway with my powers reduced to a low hum at best.

"Thank you for your help in avenging my maker's death, my King."

Eric bowed, dragging me down to my knees to do the same; they scraped against the floor, but I did not yelp out. As he stood tall again, he yanked me to my feet roughly – again, not a peep from me.

"I would suggest, if you will excuse my impropriety," Bart offered, "That you turn her. She would make an excellent vampire. She has the right… temperament."

Ugh, not this again.

I inadvertently flinched at his words, betraying my stoic stance for the first time all night. While I loved Eric, I dreaded the thought of being tied to a man who counted me as an enemy, not a friend or lover.

Russell, Bart, and Bernard left the dungeon together, chattering about the existence of unglamourable humans. Chuck padded along behind them, patting me on the shoulder as he passed me, seeking to offer me the smallest bit of comfort. It was a kind gesture, but I couldn't bring myself to accept it – looking right through him, lost in my depressing thoughts. My soul was burdened and conflicted, unable to accept that my end would be delivered by its mate.

Fuck my fucking life.

The Summerlands, Stackhouse; there's always the Summerlands.

"Karin," Eric called after the woman vampire as she moved to leave, "Tell Pam I _will_ be playing with my dinner," He gestured in my direction, "and she is not to join me at the house until she is called."

Karin nodded, smiling at me viciously and licking her lips, before vamping away.

As she exited, Eric turned to me and growled out, "Do not try any of your tricks, faery. I have not yet decided what to do with you; do NOT make up my mind for me."

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOo**

* * *

The patrons' anger-laced thoughts swept through me as Eric dragged me through the club by my chains.

I was disturbed and distraught, realizing my telepathic shields had also been disabled by the iron cuffs worn about my wrists. I wept openly, finally succumbing to the many feelings I had been holding at bay. My mental anguish compounded as I was bombarded by images of the vampire groupies' vile fantasies; they wanted to fuck Eric while he ripped me to shreds. What the fuck was wrong with these people?!

It took everything in me not to vomit.

Eric peered back at me with a quizzical look, and I thought I spied a hint of concern. As he wrenched me forward in response, causing me to release a small yelp – the iron manacles pulling against my already bruised skin – I decided that what I thought I'd seen had been wishful thinking, not reality.

He tugged me along, stopping only when we reached his car – a red corvette. He opened the passenger side door and shoved me in before slamming it behind me. Okay, that felt a little over the top, exaggerated; for whose benefit or what audience, I didn't know. Maybe he wanted to scare me.

Mission accomplished.

Slipping into his bucket driver's side seat, he ignited the engine, peeling out of the space in reverse before speeding away into the night.

"You were distressed as we left."

Eric stated, and I made no moves to disagree with him, staring out the window as the scenery whipped by, the car hurdling forward at a velocity that had my heart beating wildly, out of control. He did not further engage me on our hasty drive, nor I him.

I slipped my legs up and under my chains, clutching my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth, praying to God that my death would be swift and as painless as possible. My eyes widened as we pulled into the familiar cul de sac, and my heart sank. We were heading to _the_ house.

Of course, we were… because Fate was a fucking bitch.

After parking in the garage, Eric ushered me inside, sweeping me into his arms bridal style after becoming irritated by my slow pace. He carried me down to his basement lair, typing the code in without even glancing at the keypad. I hadn't been in his private space since my previous reality, and it looked markedly different. There was no bed, but instead a coffin, and lots of paint supplies – canvases, brushes, easels. It was as if the room was more often used for art than for sleeping.

Odd.

Eric set me down, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear and capturing my glistening blue eyes as tears slipped out, stroking my cheek affectionately and wiping them away.

What the fuck was happening? Had I fallen down a rabbit-hole into Wonderland?

"Shhh… How can you be so upset? You submitted to the court; you agreed with your punishment, and now you belong to me. No one can ever take you away… You really are mine now."

His voice was almost soft, begging my acceptance – and I didn't understand it. He had done a complete 180 in less than a minute, upheaving my world and twisting it on its side. I didn't trust it or him – as much as I wanted to, I couldn't.

I sobbed out my misery; his words had echoed the first question he had asked me when we had reunited, when he had lost his memories – if I was really his. I was then, and I still was now, but not because I had been awarded to him by a vampire court, because we were soulmates. In his mind, I belonged to him because the Louisiana King had said so, and that notion plagued me, threatening to rend my heart into little unsalvageable pieces.

I couldn't bear it.

"Just do it already. Whatever you've decided to do with me," I gritted out, "Please stop taunting me."

His fangs snicked down, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, steeling myself for a bite… that didn't come. Instead, he leaned down to rub blood into the scrapes on my knees, healing them.

"Appius," Eric spit his name out like it was poison in his mouth, "Deserved to die. You will not be punished for divesting the world of that sick fuck. Han knullade upp vårt liv, skruvas upp allt..."

Wait.

"What?"

I said, opening my eyes and interrupting him, blurting out my remark without regard for how it would be received.

"You heard me."

He grinned mischievously, producing a key from his pocket and reaching forward to slide it into the locks, one and then the other, uncuffing the manacles about my wrists, kissing each as its binding fell away. I stepped back from him, ready to pop out of the basement if need be, crackling my magics in my palms for half a second – to ensure they'd work.

Shocked did not begin to describe how I felt, and not just because of his strangely sweet actions.

I had understood him, every word, including those he chose to utter in his native tongue. Putting aside the fact he couldn't know I spoke Swedish, the meaning itself had been surprising – about how Appius had fucked with our lives, if I had in fact deciphered it correctly – which had happened in our first world, but not this one. If anything, I had fucked with Appius' undead life, attacking him without provocation and unleashing my fury upon him...

You must have fucked up the translation, Stackhouse; that can't be what he said.

But the nagging voice in my head screamed at me that maybe Eric remembered everything I had told him during his fugue state – EVERYTHING. I crushed and silenced the festering hope blossoming within me swiftly and without mercy – because it wasn't possible.

It just fucking wasn't.

I rubbed at my wrists, noting that the iron had caused a rash to bloom in their wake. Damn.

"Are you letting me go then? Is that your decision?"

Eric closed the space between us, applying his blood to my wrists before sweeping me into his arms and nuzzling his head against the top of mine. Momentarily, I rejoiced in the intimate display, my heart swelling, but then I pushed at him, remembering I had yet to remask my scent. My sweet-smelling blood was causing him to act funny, and while it saddened me, it explained everything. He relented his embrace, allowing me to step away from him, to increase the distance between us.

I repeated my question.

"Are you letting me go then?"

My voice sounded much smaller than I had intended as I gazed into his oceanic blues, almost disheartened to think I'd be allowed to keep my life – to live out the rest of my days suffering from my heartbreak.

"I'd like to keep you if you'll let me," I made no moves to accept or decline his offer, surprised it had been placed on the table at all, "You are mine, and you always have been; isn't that what you told me? Isn't that what you said?"

What the… what?

Was I dreaming? Had I fallen and hit my head?

I took another step back from him, pinching my arm viciously, repeatedly. But I didn't rouse from sleep, even though it did smart like hell. This was happening – this was real.

"What I said… when?" I asked slowly, a confusion heavy in my shaky tone.

I knew exactly when I had uttered those words to him – on the roof right after he killed Bill Compton. But did _he_?

I _needed_ his answer, waiting with bated breath, trembling as tears dribbled down my face from the corners of my eyes. My heart leapt wildly in my chest, and I was on pins and needles.

Pins. And. Needles.

"Come," He said, extending his hand out for mine, and I acquiesced, "Let me show you something…"

Eric walked us over to the closet, swinging it open and pulling at a chain to light up the space.

Jesus Christ, shepherd of Judea!

I didn't know what I had thought he was going to show me, but it was certainly _not_ that.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXox**

 **FLASHBACK | FLASHBACK | FLASHBACK**

 **oxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

Roaring, I woke from my day death plagued by the same ghost that had haunted my dreams for decades and irritated by the noise from a buzzing phone casket-side. The screen flashed yellow as my emotions screamed red.

"What!?" I growled at Bobby, my dayman, whose presence irked me to no end.

I counted the fucking days until the Great Revelation, the day I could shuck him aside and divest him of his pathetic ass-kissing life. Master this and Master that – Gods, was he insufferable!

"Master…"

Not off to a good start, bloodbag.

"… That girl… house… again…"

He jabbered on; I didn't listen.

"BOBBY!"

I raised my voice, interrupting him, rankled by his inane concerns about some woman who chose on occasion to park on the street in front of the house he resided in – like I fucking cared! And yet, he whined _constantly_ about it.

"Shut. Up. Give up your obsession with the teeny tiny human; does she scare you? Are you afraid she is a monster? Grow a pair, you piece of filth!"

I taunted, laughing at him before I hung up without ceremony.

Fucktard.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _Months later…_

Swish.

Thalia dodged my slice, smashing her fist into my jaw, vanishing across the field. No blood, no victory.

A howl of frustration erupted as she launched towards me again at a blurring speed. My sword clanged to the ground as I grabbed her with curled fingers, flipping her into the air. She landed with a resounding boom, a crater dug into the soft ground in her wake.

With a wild glint in her eyes, she thrust her hand out palm up and gestured, her meaning apparent.

Come fucking at me.

Fangs at the ready, I charged towards her, ripping my sword from the ground and screaming in my native tongue. But after I eviscerated the air where she had once stood, I instantly stiffened and fell to the ground, clutching at my chest as a strange and invasive feeling burned itself into my blood. The force was alien, wriggling inside me like a parasite, attaching itself to my emotions, and blooming like a fungus in my mind.

"What North Man?"

Thalia rushed to my side, staring down at me in wonderment, her eyes searching for the source of the invisible pain gripping what felt like my undead soul. I could not understand it, confusion rippling through me.

"I feel…" A foreign word for a foreign sensation, "Tired," I sputtered out, sneering at the positively human emotion flitting about inside me.

What?!

A fucking blood bond.

How?! Why?! WHO?!

Rage crushed confusion into dust, stomping it down into nothingness as my beast threatened to overtake me. I scrambled to isolate the tie, wrenching at it furiously, as Thalia eyed me, curiosity awash in her expression. With a preternatural speed, she dialed into her phone and I heard Dr. Ludwig's voice in the background, although I could not pick out even one word of their conversation – my audible range hampered by the maddening thu-thump of the thief's rapid heartbeat.

"THALIA!"

I screamed, furious and the minutest bit panicked.

She abandoned the device, vamping to my side. An eager fire burned in her savage eyes, and she trembled in anticipation, ready to unleash her monster. Conversely, I was immobile, unable to peel my crumbled form off the ground. I abhorred the creature breaching my body, swearing he would pay with his life – if not by my hands than by Thalia's. Her murderous glee contagious – I wanted no prisoners.

"Find my blood! Kill its abductor!"

I snarled out, thanking the Gods it was Thalia and not some other vampire bearing witness to my weakened state. She was honorable, and the only vampire not bound by blood to me that I trusted. She disappeared in a flash, yelling out a war cry in her Greek tongue.

Minutes later, I struggled to my feet and flew up into the Louisiana sky as a bloodlust-soaked rage spilled into me, filling me to the brim, overtaking me. My beast the new captain of my vessel.

Hunt.

Kill.

Destroy.

* * *

As Thalia recounted the gory and glorious death she had enacted upon my enemy, my lip curled in frustration – _I_ had wanted to joyfully dance in his blood. But she had gotten there first, and I would not begrudge her for satiating her own beast.

"North Man _slow_."

She teased me, pointing her finger at me and cackling like an unhinged hyena.

I could not fucking disagree.

In fact, I had happened upon the scene so long after her that not only had the body been disposed of, but the area cleaned, soaked in malodorous bleach. Who knows where the fuck she found it; the efficient, resourceful little warrior vampire. Gods, I tried not to admire her for it – since she was also at times only a little more than a badly trained pit-bull tethered in the yard – but she was one of the fiercest among us, terrifying, and unashamed to be herself and only herself.

I couldn't quite claim the same.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Thalia."

I quipped back, knowing she would damn well do whatever she wanted, like she always did.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _Almost a year later…_

I howled in uproarious laughter, throwing my head back and slapping my leg.

"Get away from me, you unfuckable bitch! What makes you think _I_ would ever fucking want _you_?"

She shot to her feet as I kicked her back from her submissive crouch, stopping her unwelcome tugging at my pants in an effort to remove them.

"Yer gonna pay fer that! Imma gonna curse ya! Nuh-buddy fucks wit Hallow! Nuh-buddy!"

She threatened as she bounded out of the room, tail tucked between her legs. Bloody tears glistened in my eyes, I laughed so hard.

What. The. Fuck. Ever.

From her lack of a vocabulary, I was sure she could barely spell magic, let alone wield it.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _Two nights later…_

Warmth coursed through me as a giddy mirth washed over my mind. I smiled, basking in what felt like radiant sunlight, leaning back in my office chair with my hands threaded behind my head.

Startled, I snapped the chair upright.

What the fuck!? Again!?

"IT IS _NOT_ NOTHING!"

I hissed into the phone, a deep rumbling teeming in my chest, audible and ominous.

"You imagine things."

Doctor Ludwig responded, hanging up without ceremony. Seconds later, the swell of emotion subsided, and an emptiness flooded me. My phone bore the brunt of my fury, crumbling to pieces after impacting the wall.

Pam vamped into the room. Spying the bits of my cell on the floor, she opened her mouth to speak. I silenced her with a sharp slice of my tongue.

"Leave it alone, Pam!"

She thought I should seek a second opinion; I did not need to hear her parrot the sentiment again.

Was. Not. Going. To. Fucking. Happen.

"Your condition _concerns_ me," She sniped, and I understood her double meaning – that it both worried her and involved her, "And it's not getting fucking better! Now that the Great Revelation is upon us, you can't just fucking hide out all the time. What if it flares up when you're in public? What then, Eric?!"

I feared the very same thing.

But I was not about to tell her that.

"BACK THE FUCK OFF, PAMELA!"

I watched as a single red tear slipped down her cheek, and I realized despite her usually emotionless state she truly dreaded what might happen if others believed I had become weakened, burdened by feelings. I flicked the droplet away and kissed her forehead, hoping to bring her some modicum of comfort.

She was my child after all.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _The next night…_

Seeking solitude, I stole away to the house my dayman resided in, sneaking down into the locked basement chamber to partake in the hobby I hid from all save Pam and Thalia. Neither of them reveled in my pastime, but they kept their fucking mouths quiet about it all the same, understanding that I could not simply shrug off the ghost that had haunted me the past twenty years.

After 1000 years, I had become adept at concealing my shame… my dreams… my hopes…

My humanity.

Vampires fucking pretended to be beasts, savages unable to comprehend the vast depths of human emotion, but in truth, we felt everything more intensely, with an undeniable fire and ferocity that threatened to consume our very souls. I was no exception.

All of us, fucking liars… mostly.

My maker could be counted among the few who did not possess a soul. He considered it his duty and responsibility to divest me of the small humanities he believed lingered past my mortal death, grind my soul into a million pieces to reshape me in his grotesque, depraved image – under the guise it would strength me, render me impervious to the final death. I railed against him, but he had levied command after command, forcing me to my knees or to his bed. To Appius, the ultimate dominance was absolute control, and the vampires he made belonged to him, and not themselves.

He sought to keep me as his mindless fuck doll and little else.

Unbeknownst to my maker, I had conspired against him, masking my ministrations with ease by playing him like a finely-tuned fiddle, letting him believe I appreciated his attentions, donning a mask of impassivity and striking once his guards had fallen, imprisoning him in a magical tomb.

My victory sweet, albeit incomplete.

But it would fucking do.

Pulled from my thoughts, my ears perked as a persistent whisper echoed through the small space.

Psst… psst… psst…

As I snapped my gaze to the door, I spied a ball of red light hurtling towards me, slamming into my chest…

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _A month later…_

… I roared as I came to, thrashing my hands about my naked chest, searching for an abrasion or wound that, as it turned out, did not exist. I clutched at the fabric below me – the sensation wrong. Wrenching it up to examine it, I discovered black fucking silk; my downstairs coffin was lined in crimson velvet.

What. The. Fuck.

How the fuck did I end up in the light-tight bedroom upstairs?!

"BOBBY!"

I bellowed as I darted at a supernatural speed from room to room, throwing open doors with such force they splintered, hunting for the enemy who had tried to spell me. I quickly gathered that my house was empty – where the fuck was my dayman?!

And what was that fucking smell?! Perfumed and sweet, like fucking honey and sunlight – divine, and maddening. Bobby fucking knew better than to allow human friends to come visit him in my home!

Sniffing deeply, I realized the scent emanated from _me_ , and I closed my eyes, relishing it momentarily. My body responded to the fragrance in kind, eagerly standing at attention in apparent anticipation of joining with the creature who had somehow slipped me her blood. I shuddered at the thought…

WHAT THE FUCKING HELL HAD HAPPENED?!

An image flashed in my mind: Hallow, the Werewitch.

I ripped the cell from my pocket with such might it tore the pocket clean off; smashing the keys, I dialed one of the only beings I could trust – my child.

"PAM!" I growled, fangs at the ready, "COME! NOW!"

* * *

Pam stepped back, visibly afraid she might suffer the wrath of my reaction after she recounted events of the past month, things I had no memory of. I had shut down my side of the maker-child bond we shared, and my lack of emotion was terrifying her, reducing all her carefully crafted walls to rubble.

She looked… almost human.

I could barely believe what I heard, but reading the maker-bond tie I knew my child had not deceived me.

Internally, I struggled to digest the tale she had spun, numbness settling over me; outwardly, I paced, stomping about the foyer, cracking the planks of the wooden floor, splinters cascading into the air. The shards bit into my skin, falling away as healing forced them out.

I didn't fucking care.

I could barely stomach what I had done in my fugue state, reeling from the oppressive truth that I was no better than my maker, a fucking sick son-of-a-bitch. I could not shake Appius' voice from my head telling me he was _proud_ of me for dragging an unknown woman – thank the gods, not Hallow – to my side, taking her free will, glamouring her to bond with me – to love me and care for me.

I was not known to humans; what else could have happened?

"I swear she didn't take advantage of you, Master," No, I took advantage of her, "You gave her your blood, but I doubt it would've mattered. How she looked at you, how you looked at her… You must see her; you'll understand..."

Rambling, bantering… wasting my fucking time.

Breaking my undead heart.

"I glamoured her…"

I whispered quietly, but not so low Pam could not hear, turning from her as I flicked away a single bloody tear collecting in the corner of my eye, hiding my shame.

"She can't…"

Pam snapped her mouth shut, and I cocked an eyebrow at her, distrusting my progeny in that moment. The woman couldn't… what? Be glamoured? ALL humans could be glamoured! And I told her so inelegantly.

"HUMANS ARE NOT IMMUNE TO VAMPIRE CONTROL!"

I screamed with an unnerving fury that shook the far-reaching walls; flecks of paint fell from the ceiling. Pam jumped back, readying her fangs and curling her hands into claws – a defense she and I had practiced repeatedly until it became second nature, an unconscious response to threats.

I fucking calmed myself at her display – as much as was possible.

"Vampires glamour humans to control them, Pam," I growled, "Why else would she want me!? TELL ME! Did. I. Fucking. Glamour. Her?!"

I wanted to be wrong. I _needed_ to be wrong.

Pam stiffened, clasping her hands tightly together, piercing her skin with her own nails, drawing blood.

"Eric…" She tip-toed verbally, and then regained her strength, "Let. It. Go."

She had all but confirmed it – I was no better than my maker. I imagined Appius laughing in my head, telling me he _had_ broken me, he _had_ shattered the lingering remnants of humanity within me when he tricked me into murdering Sevra, he _had_ destroyed my soul. I had been clinging to a ghost-like notion that at my core I was NOTHING like my maker – believing that despite my cruelty, I had always been even-handed in my dealings – but without my memories, I had simply been a monster.

I was my father's son…

No, I was _worse_. Appius had only ever demanded my body; I had taken this woman's heart, her soul.

I hated myself… I wanted to meet the sun… I needed to make amends…

"She must be glamoured to forget..." Pam flinched, and I ignored it, "Tell me where she is, Pam. I will _handle_ this… issue… And tomorrow, I will send a witch to remove the bond."

If the woman kept the bond, she would die with me – I would not fucking allow it. Ensuring her future would be my restitution for the crime I had committed against her.

And money, I should give her money.

I drew a checkbook from the breakfront, scribbling out a sum that was not nearly enough to ease the guilt gnawing at my undead heart.

"And her name?"

I asked expectantly, the pen poised to ink.

"She won't want to lose the bond, or take your money! She loves you! Fucking go see her, Eric! You'll understand, you'll see!"

Pam implored me, bloody tears streaming down her face.

"Pamela…"

A warning in my tone.

I scowled; how dare she imply I would want to chain an unwilling human to my side, keep her for my own pleasure as my maker had tried to keep me. A rumbling tore through my chest as I strode towards the door. I didn't need Pam to find the woman; I could seek her out on my own, remove her memories and leave her to her peace.

Before I found mine.

"I will go! I WILL GO!" Pam yelled out, panic laced and woven into her tone, "I will… glamour her... for you."

"Thank you, my child," In truth, I could not bear to meet my victim, "And you will give her this check."

She did not reach for it.

"As your maker, I command you to tell her that I will send a witch to dissolve the bond, and to give her this check," I waved it at Pam, and she grabbed it, "She must be recompensed for her time spent watching over me."

I turned on my heel and walked away, ignoring my own bloody tears as they spilled down my face. After the next sunrise, I would pay for my crimes, and suffer my fate, allowing myself one more night on Earth so I could put my affairs in order.

My maker's voice cackled in my head; he had won after all.

* * *

The witch attempted to haggle, and I was in the mood to allow it.

"Fine, $500,000 and you will remove her bond post haste," I spit out through gritted teeth, "I am trusting you will complete this task efficiently and with the utmost discretion. If harm comes to the girl at my passing, her blood will be on your hands."

I hung up without ceremony.

"It is done."

Pam said, narrowing her eyes at me as she walked into the office. I had not intended for her to discover my plan to meet the sun, but my morose thoughts had consumed me, disabling my usual strategies and defenses against espionage. I was not myself, preoccupied by the infectious guilt blooming within me, threatening to rend me to pieces. How could I explain it to her?

"Pam..."

She vamped from the room before I could finish, returning minutes later with two glasses of blood. Pam's demeanor seemed chilly, and detached, but I assumed her emotions were a projection of my own – futile resolve. Perhaps, she understood there was nothing she could do to save me from the sun.

"To you, Master," She said, raising the glass, "Bottoms up, as the humans say."

She toasted with a fangy, disarming smile, and I slung back the goblet, gulping down a mouthful of blood, noting it had a slightly funny aftertaste. Pam did not take even a sip, and I furrowed my brow, trying to discern the meaning behind her inaction.

"Paaaammmmm..."

I slurred as I dropped to the ground, spilling the remaining contents of the glass, darkness overtaking me...

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _The next night…_

The acrid smell of burning flesh invaded my nose as I woke. My eyes snapped open, simultaneously stung by the memory of Sevra's death and consumed by agony from silver cutting into my skin, strung about my body to bind me.

Why the fuck had I woken up _after_ sunset?!

I replayed the previous night's events, thinking of Appius, and the tainted blood I had fed him, inhibiting his ability to rise early – a story I had told Pam several times with glee. I scowled as I remembered that she had access to the unimbibed remnants of poison I had saved as a trophy…

That fucking sneaky bitch!

Wet dirt flung into the air; the mud flailing like kicked snow. Shit, Pam was going to fucking bury me!

"RELEASE ME!"

I howled, my scream piercing the night, hoping the command would settle into my mutinous child quickly, wondering why I could not feel her close. I grasped for at the ties inside me, glad to see the human's was missing – the witch had done her job. I felt a modicum of relief; the woman was not being forced to share my crippling pain – she was safe.

Small mercies.

"No. Bad North Man. Wrong many things. Strong vampire, but weak man. Toughen up."

Thalia's head popped up from the shallow grave and despite her admonishment, she held a shit-eating grin about her countenance. Disappearing again, I listened as she continued her ministrations; apparently the hole was not quite deep enough yet.

What the fuck!?

"THALIA!"

"Love tough, North Man," She chuckled, "Quiet now. Protect you, even from yourself."

I writhed on the ground, anxious to loosen the chains. My exposed skin blistered from the contact with the silver, but it could have been worse I realized as I processed the state of affairs. I had been messily wrapped in a blanket that smelled surprisingly reminiscent of the woman… Why were they fucking torturing me!? I wanted to meet the fucking sun, not wallow in a shallow grave until the little psycho warrior decided to uncover me.

PAM!

I yelled into our maker-child bond, tearing at the tie, yanking it unceremoniously and with a fury I expected would be painful. I didn't fucking care!

"Okay," Thalia appeared at my side, "Time. Go bye."

Fuck.

She grabbed her phone, dialing a number at a speed only achieved by vampire, kicking me into the hole before speaking with no attempt to muffle the contents of the short conversation.

"Pam, North Man contained. We dig later, when Sookie ready."

Dirt clouded my ears as she heaped it into my temporary grave in droves.

"S… Sookie?" I sputtered, swallowing earth as the night sky disappeared from sight; the word felt oddly familiar on my tongue.

But what the fuck was a Sookie?

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _Weeks later…_

Loss… Appius gone… Hunger… Need…

Blood.

Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood…

Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

Wind?

Gurgle. Guttural. Burbling….

 _Snick._

"AHHHHH!"

A scream… not mine….

Mmmmm… fangs are… pointy.

I flicked my tongue between them; why had I never done this before? I watched my hand vamp in front of my face, seeing ten million stills in its place.

Pretty.

"VAMPIRE!"

"Uh," I grunted in response – words, words are things; where are words?

I grabbed at shadows in the air, fireflies flitting about – faery dust – as it bloomed into a mushroom cloud and burst into falling speckles of light like fireworks.

Fuck shit. I'm… HIGH!?

"VAMPIRE!"

It bellowed like a tuba, boom bum boom bum, stomping towards me. Smelled like candy, and sunshine… yummy, want more want more.

"Want more, want more," I chanted out loud, clawing for the sugar standing in front of me, licking my lips as my eyes narrowed.

Faery. Faery hard candy man with the melted face.

"VAMPIRE!"

He barked again. Bark bark, like a dog. Dog faery man.

MORE SYRUP NOW!

I lunged.

BOOM!

Thrown to my back, I flailed on the ground as light settled around me, pulling me from my drunken thoughts, leaving me my consciousness – and confusion.

Fucking faeries!

"You… You fed me one of your kin?" I said incredulously, squinting at the ancient faery hovering over me.

"There are more where he came from," He waved his hand towards the pile of dust on the ground, motioning his indifference, "Preston was… expendable, and his life was mine to dispense. I am Niall, Prince of the Skye Fae," He puffed out his chest as if I would find his title impressive; I did not, "You have been below the earth for quite some time – I expected your need to feed would overpower your ability to reason, to negotiate a deal that in frankness benefits you far more than it benefits me."

"I do not want your faery tricks," I growled, jumping to my feet.

"Your pathetic desires mean nothing to me. Your Queen intends to kidnap my granddaughter, to risk an all-out war with the Fae, and you are going to commit regicide, overthrow her and regain peace between our races."

I threw my head back in uproarious laughter, "And why in the Gods' names, would I even consider aligning with you, with the _faeries_?"

I spit as the word exited my mouth, visually exposing my revulsion of his race, and his offer.

"Because I'm going to give you back the one you've lost…"

"You think, Faery," Hissing my displeasure, "I would ever want back my sick fuck of a maker?! I CELEBRATE his death; I am FREE! You have nothing – _NOTHING!_ – to give me that will sway me to your side!"

"You are wrong, vampire," He grinned deviously, hellfire glinting behind his eyes, "I am going to give you back your one weakness… Sookie…"

WHAT THE FUCK WAS A SOOKIE!?

The faery released his magics, knocking me flat on my back.

The memories – _my_ memories – hit me like a tidal wave, and I stumbled back as they washed over me, settling in my mind beside the ones I had made new. They filled the gaps missing from my heart and soul. I was whole; I was complete. My ghost finally dissipated, revealing the woman of my dreams – Sookie – in her place, who was apparently related to the Prince of the Skye Fae.

Fuck.

I was going to have to help the fucking faeries after all.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _Weeks later…_

"You have been following her? Eric, is that wise?"

Pam questioned me with a sideways glance expressing her disagreement from her position at the doorjamb.

"She killed my maker, you know?"

I deflected, wishing I could have seen my Lover reduce him to ashes, hating I could not go to her yet. While the pieces of my plan were swiftly falling into place, I had yet to best the Queen, and until she fell, Sookie was not safe.

"WHAT!? Are you kidding!? That was Sookie!? How can you be sure!?"

I remembered watching Sookie thread Appius' necklace between her fingers, thumbing at the metal pendant while tending to the nightshade garden she had planted where Compton's old house had been. Pam had told me Sookie had burned it down; what a fucking feisty woman.

Gods, I loved her.

"I am sure," I replied, irritating my child by refusing to supply her with the information she sought.

But she was fucking happy I was back to my old self – my _old_ old self.

"Master…"

Mustapha Khan, my new dayman – fucking Bobby's replacement – strolled into the room, carrying a single envelope, sealed and stamped. It held the Mississippi King's insignia; it was the answer I had been waiting for – Russell Edgington loved to stand on ceremony, if not I imagined I would have heard back from him weeks ago.

Mustapha nodded respectfully, handing me the envelope before exiting the room.

I ripped it open with the exuberance of a human child opening holiday presents, devouring each word as my mouth formed each syllable – not a sound passing my lips.

Pam vamped to my side, begging with her eyes for me to share the King's response.

"Pam…" I hesitated, intentionally heightening the suspense, "Call your sister, and bid her come to Shreveport post-haste; we are going to need a slaughterer."

My child let out a small whoop as a Cheshire cat smile spread across my face.

Yes, everything had finally fallen into place.

* * *

Russell's wolves howled as they tore through the hallways of Sophie-Anne's castle in New Orleans.

"Such a beautiful night for a bloodbath, wouldn't you say, my dear Viking?"

Russell asked as he twisted the head off of Andre, one of the Queen's children. He barely paused before he vamped down the hallway towards the throne room – Sophie-Anne had barricaded herself inside, grabbing her newest child, Hadley, sacrificing her other children to the battle.

Fucking bitch.

But it made the battle that much more satisfying, ripping her children's bonds from her body one by one. I divested each of the Berts of their limbs before slamming stakes into their chests, and watched Waldo flake into a pile of dust after setting him alight. My beast roared my victories, and my own children, Pam and Karin, offered small nods as they bested their own foes. Karin's body count was high, but Pam locked-step, dusting almost as many with a subtle ease, impressing me and earning a swell of pride through our maker-child bond – she was full of surprises.

"The Queen is mine!"

I yelled after Russell and to the usurpers, those alongside me laying siege to Sophie-Anne's Louisiana court, as they rushed past into the fray – bombs going off all around us, reducing castle walls to rubbles. Sophie-Anne had eyes to chain my Lover to her side, and for that she owed me her life.

I heard a whoosh before a tight grip dug into my shoulder.

"But the kingdom," Russell hissed lowly through gritted, fanged teeth, "Will be mine!"

"Our offer stands," I growled, removing his hand roughly and drawing my sword – as a threat and a promise, "I will have Sophie-Anne's head; you will give me the life of my maker's killer to do with as I please, and in return, you will fortify your kingdom with the acquisition of Louisiana, increase your stronghold against Arkansas and Texas."

Russell nodded his agreement, rushing away to succumb to his bloodlust and eviscerate the last of Sophie-Anne's followers. I smiled; I had maneuvered the King into the position I wanted him in.

It was time to take the Queen.

* * *

Pulling back a painting from the wall to reveal a passageway, I slipped into the passageway unnoticed, closing the frame behind me – offering a _small_ thanks to the faery man who had returned my memories of many things – including this secret tunnel to the throne room. There were no lights, but I did not need them, traversing the cavernous space with ease.

Sophie-Anne donned a look of sheer panic as I vamped in front of her, my sword swiping her head off in one swift cut, her body crumbling to the ground instantly.

A whimpering cry came from behind the curtains, and I flashed over to them, whipping back the velvet encumbrance to reveal my Lover's cousin, Hadley – shaking; her baby fangs descended in fear, not anger.

"Please," She plead with me, "Make it quick; I won't survive without her," Squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head from my gaze.

"Baby vamps have been known to thrive out from under their maker's grasp."

I offered, thinking of Sookie and her unwavering ability to forgive, and forget. Perhaps, my Lover would accept her turned kin, as she had embraced everyone, myself and Pam included.

"No," She sobbed out, "I don't _want_ to live without her! And I can't kill myself; it's against my religion!"

A religious vampire? Wonders never cease…

But I guess they do; I thought, as I swung my sword at her head, believing I did her a favor by acquiescing to her request, and saving her from the hells Russell would surely reign down on her.

The doors burst open and Russell bounded into the room, smiling as he spied the piles of dust I had left in my wake. I had secured my victory, and upheld my end of the deal.

It was almost over.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

The faery man with the melted face – Niall, Prince of the Skye Fae – found me not so long after to share with me his discontent and ire at the vampire summons that had been filed with the supernatural court prior to its delivery to Sookie.

The final move on my chessboard.

The supernatural world recognized all legal remedies – the vampire court's included – and once a verdict was issued, neither Niall, nor any other vampire or supernatural would ever be able to strike at my Lover again. Sookie's safety was paramount, and I was taking steps to secure it.

"You've had charges brought up against my granddaughter!? You have welched on our deal! You seek to keep her from me, from her people."

I did; of course I did, on all counts – fucking faeries – but it was fun to taunt him.

"We made NO such deal; if you recall, you merely asked for my _help_."

I countered, grinning my satisfaction.

He scowled, and I stifled my desire to laugh; it was not yet time.

"I will block your efforts to take her from me."

File motion after motion, faery; Fate has stacked the deck in our favor – I thought to myself.

"You will _try_ ," I punctuated my words with a fangy smile; I was not _taking_ her from anyone, I was helping to give her back her life, "But you would be wise to remember, true love always wins out in the end…"

I roared in laughter – the time had come. He had no idea what he had truly given me when he returned my memories of Sookie, and it had bitten him in the ass.

I turned on my heel, and took to the sky. I had beaten him; he and I both knew it.

* * *

 _A week later…_

Nervous energy settled in me as I readied myself for Sookie's trial – the performance of my lifetime.

"North Man trust his woman."

Thalia ordered, as she settled down on the couch in the living room, flipping on the TV to watch the humans play football. She muted the volume when I raised an eyebrow to indicate our conversation had not yet been terminated.

"She will be scared of me; she _will_ believe I mean to kill her. I will have to be rough with her, ignore the fragility of her body."

I could only hope Sookie would remember something I had told her a lifetime ago, that in front of vampires I would have to appear indifferent towards her – cold and uninterested – those words had never rung truer than in this moment.

"Thalia scare her; she still like. Do not underestimate your woman; Sookie tough and strong. Smart."

The little warrior moved her head along with the action on the large screen as she spoke, swinging it right and left as the players kicked the ball up and down the field. I could not see the appeal, but apparently Thalia loved the game of football; it reminded her of some of the games the Grecians played in her human life.

I opened my mouth to reply but she cut me off, ignoring the irritated growl that erupted from my throat.

"You tell her North Man protect her from vampire race with show. You tell her; she understand that. You tell her North Man protect her from herself with iron," I flinched, I knew it had to be done, but I did not like it all the same, and imagined she would like it even less, "Like Thalia protect you from yourself with silver. You tell her North Man protect her from world with trial. Supe law ironclad, absolute. She understand that. She forgive you; you see. Then…"

Thalia flipped the TV off, and launched to her feet.

"You make dirty. She like dirty with you."

She vamped away, and out of the house, her howling laughter echoing into the night.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXox**

 **PRESENT DAY | PRESENT DAY | PRESENT DAY**

 **oxOXoxOXox**

* * *

"You remember me?"

Sookie said quietly, hesitantly, peering up into my oceanic blues, her sapphire orbs glistening with tears.

We stood, hand in hand, in front of a small closet with a single flickering light bulb, illuminating the hundreds of paintings and drawings I had created over the past twenty or so years, the visual depiction of dreams that had haunted me, called to me – my ghost.

My Sookie.

Each work utilized a different style, brushstroke, medium, but all clearly captured Sookie's beauty. Once my memories had settled within me, I recognized each as a scene from our first life together – some even from the time I had stalked her, protecting her from afar, before Russell Edgington had stolen her away, spurring me into action. It had been the cataclysmic event that ignited our love story.

"I remember," I replied, and her breath hitched, "Everything."

She exhaled, anxiously, without a hint of relief, dropping my hand and turning away from me.

"I…" Her voice shaky, and nervous, "…need to know _what_ you remember…"

What to say? How to explain?

"You and I first met on the street, in the middle of the night…" I pulled her into my arms as tears began to slip from her eyes, nuzzling my face into her hair as she drew her fingers in circles on my chest, "You invited me to walk with you, unafraid of the stranger who had happened upon you. It was the moment I fell in love with you, even though it took me many more years to realize it was the word for the emotion you had created within me…"

Sookie pushed back from me, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, but remaining within our embrace. I hoped they were happy tears, and not the other kind.

"So this is what you've been doing since your memory returned...?"

She said, sweeping her hand to indicate the contents of the closet, a hint of hurt in her tone.

"No," I admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "This has been my secret for the past twenty years or so – one only known to Pam and Thalia – painting the face of a woman who haunted my dreams, a ghost who occupied my heart and mind…"

She interrupted me as a truth unveiled itself.

"Oh my gosh! That's why Thalia didn't kill me," I growled at her words, remembering the occasion she referenced, "And why Pam seemed to know me! Or at least why she accepted, _way_ too easily, your claim that I was yours!"

I had not exactly connected those dots, but she was right – my hobby had in some sense saved her life, having shown those closest to me that she was known to me, and not at all a threat, but the being my heart yearned for. I smiled; Fate had been a fickle bitch, but it seemed everything she had done had had a purpose.

"How?"

She asked, nuzzling her face into my neck, seeking comfort and closeness.

"Niall…" I felt her bristle and flinch at his name, knowing the reason, "…thought if he gave me back you, the memories of you, that I would help him save you from servitude to the Louisiana Queen, help shepherd you towards living in the faery realm, so he could keep you for himself..."

She pulled back from me again, responding without hesitation, and I laughed at her turn of phrase.

"What a stupid fucking prick."

"Agreed."

And I did.

It had been foolish of him to assume that once I knew my heart's desire that I would choose to ignore it. Despite his many millennia, the faery really had managed to learn nothing about love, or soulmates; I imagined he never would. But I did owe him a debt of gratitude – albeit a miniscule one at most – after ripping us apart in our previous reality, he had unknowingly brought us back together in this one. In a way, everything truly had come full circle.

"Lover…"

I half-whispered in a conciliatory tone, nervousness coursing through me for the second time that day.

Much had happened since our first reality, and I owed Sookie every truth, every story, every explanation – especially when it came to the bond. I had been sick with myself once I realized I had misinterpreted everything Pam had told me about my fugue state, believing I had glamoured an unknown woman to love me, wanting to meet the sun and end my life.

Thank the Gods, Thalia had silvered me.

Pam had been right, if I would have just gone to Sookie, seen her, I would have understood; I would have recognized her. Instead, I had unwittingly hurt my Lover, so badly she had struck at my maker to divest herself of her anger. I intended to beg for her forgiveness, but I had steeled myself for the possibility she would not give it.

Sookie's expression was soft, and questioning, waiting for me to continue. I soldiered on, despite my fears it might become our last moment. The end of our epic love story.

"I must apologize for hurting you, for taking the bond," She sighed heavily, but made no moves to speak, "If you will allow me, I would like to tell you – everything – to explain…"

It was now or never, and never was not an option.

* * *

Sookie swatted my arm, and not lightheartedly, but with a force that would have left a bruise if I was a human man – luckily I was not.

"You were going to kill yourself?!"

I nodded, ashamed to admit it was the truth.

"Remind me to buy Thalia…" She bit her lip, trying to think of something Thalia would want; I remained silent – I could not think of anything either, "I don't fucking know what to buy her, but I'll think of something! You," She poked me in the chest, "are one fucking lucky vampire; you know that?"

I had found the love of my life, twice, despite all odds – I was the luckiest being in the entire fucking universe.

"Yes, I am aware," I responded, a large smile about my countenance that twisted quickly into a small frown, "And everything else?"

She rolled her eyes at me.

"You know, I think Thalia knows me better than you do! She certainly has more faith in me!"

She chuckled, swatting me – this time playfully – on the arm. Thalia had been right; my Lover was due more credit than I had given her – and I laughed right along, stopping abruptly as I remembered what else Thalia had said.

"Does that mean…" I waggled my eyebrows at her, my meaning closed to interpretation.

Her eyes darkened, becoming hooded as she gleaned my intentions.

"You bet your ass it does!"

In seconds, I had vamped us to the upstairs bedroom, noting that she had managed to shed all of her clothes along the way despite the fact the she was straddling my waist. I raised an eyebrow, begging the question, and she showed me, incinerating my clothes with her magics – without burning me in the slightest.

Fuck, that was sexy.

We fell back onto the bed, devouring each other's mouths as our hands eagerly roamed, our bodies ready in seconds. Sookie broke our heated kiss, nipping at my shoulder – seeking permission to bite – as she took me inside her, rolling her hips slowly. I moved my head to her neck, and simultaneously we sank our teeth into one another, a new bond exploding between us. Our orgasms erupted immediately and with an unparalleled intensity as a wave of light broke forth from her body, leaving little wisps of light in its wake.

We both breathed out reverently, panting – myself, included – our exhaustion and elation.

"I love you, Eric." | "I love you, Sookie."

We continued to worship each other over and over again until dawn was nearly upon us.

* * *

"Eric?"

Sookie mumbled, trying to stave off the sleep threatening to overtake her in her blissed-out state. Curiosity was overwhelming her, and by proxy me.

"Mmmm… Yes, Lover?"

I responded, feeling satiated and complete. I had everything my heart had been missing for over a thousand years, and I was contented. My soul finally stilled and at ease.

"Why didn't you just become the new vampire king of Louisiana? Why'd you bother working with Russell Edgington at all?"

"In truth, I have never wanted to be king; it is a distinction that comes with more troubles than anything, and it would have exposed you, and my progeny, to much more risk, an onslaught of constant threats and potential takeovers. It would have complicated our lives to no end, and we both deserve to be unburdened, carefree, consumed by each other – free from political bullshit."

She curled into my chest, resting her head above my unbeating heart, gliding her fingers up and down my abs as she drifted into a peaceful slumber.

"Plus," I whispered, continuing to explain my reasoning, "I quite like your nickname for me, and Mister King Vampire just did not have the same ring to it."

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXo The End xOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you to each and every one you for reading! Most especially to MrsKroy – my amazing beta, MsBuffi, and Sluggysmom, who suffered through my writer's angst over the past 5 months while I wrote against this storyline almost every day and night._

Google Translate

Han knullade upp vårt liv, skruvas upp allt ... = He fucked up our lives, screwed everything up…

Ett Nytt Perspektiv = A New Perspective


	35. Epilogue

_A/N: "An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break." -Ancient Chinese Proverb_

 _I think that is the perfect way to describe this story and I wanted to share…_

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

"Mother… fucker!"

I heard Sookie scream from downstairs as I woke from my day death, jumping from the bed and vamping to the kitchen in an instant, readied to attack whatever was distressing my Lover, my heart. Appearing by her side – accidentally startling her, evidenced by her quick gasp and an earned swat – I discovered she was alone, quickly flitting my eyes about her form, looking for an injury that might explain her anger, confusion, shock, mixed with the smallest tinge of happiness…

It was a veritable cocktail of emotions coursing through her side of our bond, and I was unable to discern which demanded priority.

"It's just… what the… of all the bull… ri-fucking-diculous…"

She muttered to herself, palm to her forehead, as I quirked an eyebrow to indicate my misunderstanding. She glided her hand down to her cheek, cupping it, as if she was trying to determine how to break some uncomfortable news to me – our bond mirroring the same sentiment. I reached for her hand and folded her into my arms, wrapping them around her in a comforting embrace.

What could have happened between dawn and night's break? That I did not know.

"Whatever it is, min älskade, we will brave it; we can overcome anything together."

I whispered reassuringly into her hair, trailing my fingers up and down her exposed back in lazy oblong circles.

She nuzzled her face into my naked chest, pressing her lithe body against mine, planting a kiss on the spot over my unbeating heart. A wave of calm bounded through our bond, and I knew she was sending it to me – though for what purpose I could not be sure.

"It's not like that, baby; I'm sorry I worried you. I'm just so… so…"

Angry.

My Lover's emotions were resting squarely upon irritated anger. My curiosity spilled through our tie as Sookie pulled back from my arms, remaining within them, and ripped an object from her pocket dangling it in front of me while her face held an expression of exasperated annoyance, mixed with the smallest tinge of resolved defeat.

I gasped, an unnecessary and very humanlike response.

Flabbergasted did not begin to describe my reaction; about her fingers, she held a necklace I had owned from my human days, one of the final vestiges of my time before turning vampire. But past that, it was _the_ necklace, from our time before, the one we had magicked accidentally when we had bonded – and incidentally it _reeked_ of my smell, like the North Sea.

Fuck.

Again!?

I found, independent of my lover's emotions, I was also a bit… infuriated.

"I mean, seriously," She went on to say, "Fintan implied these things were so damn hard to make, but literally this'll be our third fucking cluviel dor – the second one we've made ourselves… and AGAIN by fucking accident!"

I tamped down my urge to chuckle; she would not appreciate it if it appeared I did not understand the gravity of the situation, or her completely valid concerns over having another world-changer in her possession.

It had not gone quite so well the last time, and she had suffered for it – as had I.

I understood her frustrations, and shared them – those wishes had in many senses made our lives more difficult and give us a much more tragic love story than we had deserved – but I could not ignore that our newest cluviel dor was also a veritable symbol of our love, our undying devotion for one another. It was the smallest bit funny that she could not yet see the forest for the trees; blinded by the still raw wound that had been our absence from each other's lives. I felt it to – passionately, unwaveringly – but I was less disturbed by the magical object because we could always just throw it in a fucking lake…

"Perhaps, Fate believes we need more… kryp-to-nite in our lives?"

I said with a shrug, trying to piece together the word Sookie had used so long ago. I had yet to decipher its meaning, but she had made it seem like a good thing and I hoped to offer a positive spin on the slightly annoying turn of events.

Sookie threw her head back in uproarious laughter, slapping her hand against her knee. She went on for nearly a minute, and I could not help but wonder if there was something I had missed that made it a much funnier statement than I had meant for it to be. As her laughter subsided, she set down the necklace onto the counter; her eyes became hooded as she drank in my still naked form as if she was a desert traveler eager to satiate an unquenched thirst.

"Yes," Her voice dripped in wanton need, "Maybe that's a good way to look at it… and we should busy ourselves with much more important endeavors… like relearning each other's bodies," Even though she, as well as I, knew that neither of us had forgotten – both of us imbued with memories of our old reality, of our times together, "and bringing each other to the brink of ecstasy over and over until dawn."

Yes fucking ma'am.

I swept her into my arms, crashing my lips into hers and seeking entry to her body. I took her against every surface of the kitchen before swapping out our scenery, christening each and every room, some twice, until the sun took me from my lover and she drifted into peaceful sleep; our mutual elation overwhelming our bodies and souls.

* * *

 _A week or so later…_

"Do you think I'll be in a lot of pain… you know, when it happens?"

Sookie asked, grasping my hand in her own, clinging to me a little more closely than usual as we waited for the Doctor to come back and give us the news we had waited more than a week to receive.

"I cannot say for sure, min älskare... let us not dwell on that part of it. It is what comes after, what we will gain, that should take precedence in our minds."

In truth, I could not remember the answer – it had been a thousand years since I had shared the experience – but I did not want to frighten her, or cause her distress. My lover was not fragile, but I enjoyed our peaceful existence and the quietude it had brought to both of our souls and hearts. I did not revel in her anxieties, her worries she would find herself in pain – the last thing I wanted was to be the cause of my Lover's discomforts.

Why it had taken over a week for results, I did not know…

"Girlie…" The little doctor paused – not a good sign, "honestly, you would have to go back to a time before the two of you bonded," Cannot undo that, "or before Miss Stackhouse got her powers," Again, not exactly possible, "for her to be able to be turned into a vampire. She is _too_ Fae for the vampire blood to take hold – despite how potent yours is," Doctor Ludwig looked me squarely in the eye, "her body will simply reject the change, and possibly kill her in the process. But… if it is any consolation," There was nothing she could say to abate my shock and disappointment, "She will live longer than a human lifespan; not infinitely, but still…"

Eternity would not be enough, less than that was unacceptable.

My Lover and I exchanged glances – and I fought, successfully, the urge to growl. Doctor Ludwig accepted that as her cue to leave, popping out of our house within seconds, leaving us to the silence pervading my office space, to our unresolved miseries and thoughts. Although both were short-lived.

"Well I guess we have only one choice at our disposal then..."

I said, thinking of our magical object, the one we had _not_ thrown in the lake.

"It would appear so..."

Sookie replied, a knowing smile replacing her previously despondent expression.

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _Some time later…_

The wind whipped through Sookie's hair as I followed behind her, running in the moonlight away from… what? That I did not quite know. Our pursuers had yet to make themselves known, toying with us in attempt to cause a slip-up, a mistake; it was an ingenious ploy – but it was not working. My Lover was unfazed; each move she made was deliberate, strategic – I could not have been more proud.

She paused briefly, slumping over and panting a breath reflexively before she began to stalk the treeline with a finger pressed to her lips to indicate the success of our task at hand hinged upon stealth.

Her head turned quickly as an unmistakable sound breached the quiet of the night and her ears perked at the howling in the distance.

Wolves.

My Lover did a roundabout, facing me, silently asking me for guidance, and I gestured forwards, pointing with my finger towards the path carved out by time and travel, indicating we should continue along our current route. She continued her course – trepidation tremoring through our bond – looking back every so often to ensure I was still behind her.

I was. Of course I fucking was.

The wolves were closing in, and I wondered how my lover would handle their encroachment, and why she had allowed them to close the space between us at all. While she could not fly, I certainly could – I could lift her into my arms and launch us away in seconds, if only she said the words, asked me to take charge. But this was her night, and I was following her lead. Still the nagging voice in my head rattled its questions about my mind: Did she have a plan? Or was she conceding?

As it turned out, I should not have been worried.

Much to my surprise, despite the wish, her powers had remained.

Sookie stopped suddenly, sensing our enemies proximity, and began to light herself up, pulsating as she glowed in a hazy bubble about her form. She threw her arms out from her body, in an open stance, and I folded myself into her form, her head resting under my chin. She began to shimmer, engulfed by light as it shimmied through me, igniting my urges and simultaneously suppressing my ability to react upon them.

She was in complete control – and it was sexy as fuck.

As the howling ceased, her light engulfed the space, manifesting in a powerful ring that shot out in all directions from our bodies. Our supposed enemies had managed to come within striking distance but the force of Sookie's light launched them back from us by, injuring a few of them in the process – I knew she would be none too pleased once she found out. All noises ceased, and I waited for the wolves to regain their composure before accepting victory.

Sookie swatted at the dust about her clothes – being silly and she knew it.

"What?" She queried me, "I want to be clean."

How does one respond to that? I did not know so I ignored her odd sentiment, but continued all the same.

"We need to keep running…" I implored her, "We are not out of the woods yet."

She chuckled at my pun, but then donned a more serious expression.

"Do you think they'll be okay? I was just kind of hoping to stun them…"

Her voice drifted off as she sprinted once again away from me, acquiescing to my request, not waiting for my answer – perhaps not wanting it. She moved gracefully through the trees, traversing the trail easily, dodging branches and other scattered foliage as if they failed to exist at all.

As she reached the farmhouse porch, she shouted her glee, jumping up and down, unable to contain her excitement. I smiled, pulling her into my arms and planting a not-so-chaste kiss on her lips. She eagerly accepted my attentions, slipping her tongue inside my mouth and pressing her taut body against mine, writhing against me, as I contemplated ripping her clothes off and taking her on the porch in the moonlight...

"A-hem!"

The sound broke our reverie, and Sookie's lips left mine as she turned her head – a slightly guilty expression overtaking her countenance. I would definitely miss getting to see her blush.

"Well I _did_ win!"

She retorted to Alcide, her wolf friend – who had somehow dressed between now and the chase. I had met him once before, and my Lover counted him amongst her friends – I tolerated his existence, and he tolerated mine. Vampires and Weres were not exactly… friendly to one another – wolves always smelled of wet dog; it was unappetizing, off-putting.

But she was my heart, so I soldiered on and played nice despite my overwhelming urge to vomit in his presence.

"Yeah, you won alright," Alcide conceded, "By the way, what was with the light show? I didn't think vamps had _those_ kinds of powers."

Sookie laughed softly, smiling widely, exposing her fangs, "No, but apparently faery-vampire hybrids do! I didn't hurt y'all much, did I?"

Sookie had insisted we test her newfound abilities, push them to their limits by way of a sneak attack – and she had not failed to impress. But I had never had my doubts – my Lover was the most impressive being in the entire universe.

"Mostly just our prides, but damn, Sook, that was freaking amazing," He turned to me, "Got yourself a great woman there, Northman."

I nodded; he was not telling me anything I did not already know.

"Have a good night!"

Sookie yelled into the darkness as Alcide shifted back into his wolf form, and sprinted away to join his pack. She nuzzled her face into my chest once again, dragging her fangs against my skin, causing me to shiver from the sensation as she flooded our bond with lust.

Pop.

"Oh hell!"

Sookie called out, breaking from our embrace, and twisting around to face our newest interloper.

"So you used a cluviel dor to help her turn then, gamed the system, so to speak?"

Doctor Ludwig said, her voice awash with irritation as she visually examined my Lover's new state of being, correctly ascertaining how we had managed the feat.

It had not quite gone as expected, but it had worked, which was all that mattered. Eternity was ours.

"Yeah, I guess so…"

Sookie replied sheepishly while I held a wolfish grin about my countenance.

"Well," Ludwig threw her hands up in the air, "At least this time you didn't fucking change the world!"

Pop.

And she was gone, seemingly vanishing into thin air.

"But she is wrong, min älskare," I whispered to Sookie, drawing her into my arms once again, "Because you have changed _my_ world forever."

* * *

 **oxOXoxOXoxOXoxOXox**

* * *

 _A/N: And that's all she wrote folks!_

 _I'm working on an A/H piece called Kiss Me, Kill Me but it's a slow roll and I'm going to post for it intermittently. In truth, I'm actually going to take a much-needed break now that RitM is done. Whew guys, I'm drained (pun intended)! – since Oct. '16, I've written 8 stories, day and night, totaling over 225k words! Exhilarating, but exhausting…_

 _Don't worry, I will be back – Mrskroy has already told me she won't let me rest of my laurels forever. In the interim I'll def be around, reading and editing for Mrskroy, eagerly devouring new works and hopefully experiencing new authors. Plus, I may or may not have had inspiration strike (I DID I DID) just the other day with an awesome TB story idea – (UPDATE) Born to Die, which will launch 5.7.17!_

Summary: What if Breandan had begun to wage his war on halfings before Sookie was born? To what lengths would the faeries go to hide her, and how will their interference change her and her story – forever?

(UPDATE) First lines: She had intended to kill herself, but I was not quite so ready to let her go, let her soul suffer the consequences of her turmoil – so I did it for her. Needless to say, she and I were no longer on speaking terms, and I could not help but wonder how long she would hold her grudge. But I hoped it would not last for an eternity…

 _Y'all let me know if that intrigues you! Otherwise, love for y'all always! And thanks for reading. Bye!_


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